


Just The Planets

by FandomTrash24601



Series: Guide Me Home [2]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst with a Happy Ending, As if Spock doesn't have at least some PTSD, Canonical Character Death, Character Death, Fluff and Angst, Gen, I guess I'll make one then, Is there a tag for emotionally constipated Vulcan, Jim and Uhura's bromance, M/M, PTSD, Pining, Realizations of Love, it's a lot of angst guys, pining jim, this is Spock we're talking about
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-05
Updated: 2018-07-04
Packaged: 2019-01-29 21:12:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 31
Words: 84,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12639282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FandomTrash24601/pseuds/FandomTrash24601
Summary: After Jim's reversion, Spock comes to believe that it is necessary for him to visit the ha'karr as well. He is reverted to a younger version of himself and must find his own way to reversion, while Jim deals with a certain emotion.





	1. Chapter 1

It had been about a month since Jim's gift from the ha'karr of the Ohk-Pallas had worn off. He was not as different as Spock had feared that he'd be. The main differences were that he leaned on his crew more often and more willingly, and his smiles were more genuine then they'd been before. He even found time, once a week, to visit the botany labs.

Jim had retained some memories from his experience, but not all of them. He had told Spock this over their first game of chess after Jim's reversion. The deep, aching relief that had come with the familiar action of chess had left Spock feeling in dire need of meditation. He did not, however, meditate. Doing so would require asking Jim to leave, something he refused to do.

Spock was still in love with Jim. However, being unaware of whether or not this 'improved' Jim loved him back, Spock kept quiet. He would wait to be sure that his affections were returned before declaring his affections to Jim. It was painful, though, passing each day unable to treat Jim as he wished to.

"I can't thank you enough," Jim said as he moved a rook. "For taking care of me."

"Of course, Jim," Spock said.

"It can't have been easy," Jim continued, and raised his eyes to meet Spock's. There was nothing but brutal honesty on his face, no shadows or walls. "I was in a pretty bad place, traumatized and scared and starving. I know I wouldn't have been able to take care of a kid as screwed up as that."

"It was a team effort," Spock said. "I would not have been able to handle you on my own, either. It was largely due to Leonard that the rest of the crew was able to assist you. Without his help, you would have pushed everyone away." Jim nodded and smiled warmly.

"Good old Bones. He's one of the things I remember most. You and him." Jim sounded almost wistful, and Spock tipped his head slightly.

"You sound as if you miss the experience."

Jim shook his head, and took a sip of his tea before answering. Spock took a moment, as he'd been doing over the course of the month, to take in Jim. He had not realized that he would miss the little things about Jim, such as the way he clasped his hands around his tea when deep in thought, or the way that his brows furrowed when he was trying to figure out how to phrase something, or the way that the light would make his eyes glow.

"I don't," Jim said, "I definitely don't. I was scared, and confused, and traumatized. You guys took care of me, though, and that was nice. I'd never really been taken care of before that."

The ease with which he said that made Spock ache with both the want to comfort him and the want to thank his mother for caring for him as she had, something he would never be able to do.

"Your move," Jim said in an attempt to redirect the conversation, nodding towards the board.

Spock moved a bishop, and Jim frowned at the board before something glinted in his eyes, a flicker of a hidden smirk. Spock had seen that look many times before, just as Jim was about to-

"Checkmate," Jim said cheekily, after moving a knight.

Spock looked down at the board in shock, once again piecing together Jim's strategy only after Jim had won. He looked back up at Jim and tipped his king in defeat.

"An admirable victory, yet again without any obvious strategy."

"As is my specialty," Jim teased, and sat back in his chair to sip at his tea. His eyes glinted at Spock over the rim of his mug.

Spock's throat was pained with words unspoken, a question that he had been thinking on for almost a week. It had been laying in wait for almost as long as Jim had been returned to them, and only grew stronger with each night of meditation, none so strong as they had been since before Vulcan's destruction. It seemed that Jim was able to read the hesitancy on his face, because he set down his mug and leaned forward.

"Spock, are you okay?" He asked. "You can tell me anything, you know."

Spock remembered his promise to James, when Spock had told him that perhaps after his reversion, Spock would speak of his own issues to Jim. He could do that. But if there was a way that would be more beneficial, should he not peruse it?

"I have found myself considering a rather important matter," Spock said. "However I am unsure how to proceed."

"Would you like some advice?" Jim asked, tucking his legs up under him. His eyes were fixed on Spock, piercing. "I've heard that I'm great at giving advice."

"When Leonard and I visited the ha'karr to ask why you had been reverted," Spock began. "I was offered the same gift. Of course, at the time, I denied the gift. However, since you have been reverted-"

"The gift has looked more appealing? More like a viable option?"

"Indeed." Spock paused for a moment before continuing, voice softer. "Ever since the destruction of Vulcan, my meditation had not been as well as it once was. My emotional control has not been optimal, either. Perhaps, if I was to accept the gift, provided the offer is still valid, it would greatly benefit my health."

Jim was silent, gaze distant in contemplation. Finally, he nodded.

"Well now that we know, it couldn't be an accident like mine was," Jim said. "Which means we'll have to run it by the brass." He frowned. "They're not going to like this, but if you can logic them into submission..."

Spock was shocked at Jim's acceptance of his idea. Unable to respond to Jim's acceptance, Spock chose to respond to the part of Jim's speech that he could.

"Logic is not a verb, Jim, it is a noun."

"Shhhhhh," Jim said, smiling. "So what's your plan to logic them into submission?"

"Your reversion proved beneficial, and it was intended as a gift. It is therefore known that it would improve my mental health. We are Starfleet's best command team, and the improvement of us both would be an asset to Starfleet. I am also aware of the time I would be reverted to, and was an enlisted officer at that time. There would be no loss to Starfleet as there was with your reversion, because I would still be able to attend to my duties."

"See?" Jim said, smiling. "Impeccable logic. They won't be able to supply a solid argument."

"I do not doubt your enthusiasm," Spock said. "But my logic is not always impeccable."

"Maybe this is just me being a lowly human," Jim teased. "But your logic seems solid to me. Sure, a Vulcan might be able to poke holes in it, but I don't see any flaws."

"Flattery will get you nowhere, Jim."

"Flattery can get me _anywhere._ In all honesty, though, I really do think that we'll be able to get you back to the Ha'karr. They can't even claim that it's out of our way, because we're heading back that way in two days."

"Your continuous faith in me is gratifying, Jim."

Jim leaned back in is chair once more and took another sip of his drink. He glanced over at the chronometer on the wall, which Spock knew would read 2057. When he turned back to Spock, his eyes were bright and warm.

"What do you say about one more game before we call it a night?"

"That would be acceptable," Spock said, reaching out to reset the board.

Jim set aside his mug for a moment and assisted him, taking white. The simple choice, so familiar and remaining unchanged, always helped to settle Spock. He had not told Jim of his dilemma when James had chosen black, and did not plan on telling him. It had been an extremely illogical reaction, and no matter his closeness to Jim, he was still Vulcan and prized emotional control.

"You probably missed our chess games a bit, huh?" Jim asked. "There was no one around to intellectually challenge you while I was gone."

"I attempted to teach James how to play," Spock said. "It was unexpected at first that he did not know how to play, but I suppose that a child would not have been very interested in games of logic."

"I learned how to play chess during recovery after Tarsus," Jim said. "There was barely anything to do, so I taught myself how to play on an old PADD."

"How long did it take you to master chess?" Spock asked, moving his first piece after Jim gestures for him to go first.

"Maybe a month? Probably less." Jim shrugged and moved his own first piece. "The time in the hospital and therapy is kind of a blur."

"Trauma can have an affect on memories," Spock said. "Sometimes the memories are unclear, and other times they are incredibly vivid."

"Which one is it for you?" Jim asked quietly. "You don't have to answer if it's too invasive, of course-"

"They are incredibly vivid," Spock said quietly. "It is why I do not sleep as well. The memories, for lack of a better word, haunt me."

"It's odd, with me," Jim said. "Some of the memories are crystal clear, but others are a blur until they decide to blindside me and become clear long enough to hurt me. Does that make any sense?"

"It does," Spock said. "I cannot help but wish on occasion that I did not remember as well as I do."

"Yeah," Jim said quietly, moving a pawn. "Remembering can suck. But... They're _your_ memories. They're part of what makes you you. So despite their pain, I don't think I'd ever choose to forget something, or just not remember it. Do you get that?"

"I believe I do."

"Well, on to a lighter note, I'm out of tea and going to make more," Jim said, standing. "Do you want me to get you another drink?"

"Yes, thank you," Spock said.

"No problem, Spock."

* * *

That night, Spock dreamed again. Ever since Jim's reversion, Spock had been dreaming almost every night. The dreams were not always pleasant, and sometimes they left him feeling more tired than when he'd gone to sleep. How humans functioned, Spock did not know.

The dreams that night were not pleasant. He relived the day of Vulcan's destruction and what came afterwards, every detail immaculate. The smells, the sounds, the physical and mental feelings were all devastatingly accurate.

The hollow pit that opened in his stomach when the distress call from Vulcan was received. The gleam of the Enterprise as she first came into view. Nyota's perfume as she walked away after being assigned to the Enterprise. The feeling of coarse Vulcan sand being beat into his skin by harsh and unnatural wind. The stuttering in his side when the cliff crumbled under his mother. The blinding pain of a broken bond and numbing disbelief as he reappeared on the transporter pad. Overwhelming anger and bloodlust as he held Cadet Kirk _\- Jim, my dearest Jim, I am so sorry, what I have done is unforgivable-_ down against a console and choked him. The overwhelming shame as he realized what had happened. The pump of adrenaline as he infiltrated Nero's ship with Cadet Kirk by his side, almost fitting since they had both lost a parent to him.

The disgust at the reporters who flocked to celebrate the crew of the _Enterprise_ as heroes upon their return to Earth, as if they did not remember the destruction of an entire planet and nearly an entire species, as if they were unaware of how traumatic the experience must have been for those who survived, Vulcan or not. The fear at seeing his people weakened so, with more dying by the day due to torn bonds and a lack of healers. The pinch of clasping his hands too tightly behind his back, refusing to let emotion show after such a recent, violent slip.

The cold loneliness of his assigned room at Starfleet headquarters. The surprise at seeing Cadet Kirk when he visited the gym to escape. The feeling of Cadet Kirk's sweat slick skin under his hands after multiple sparring sessions. The sorrowful gazes that Nyota thought he did not notice. The way that almost everyone was gentle around him, treating him as if here were glass and thinking that he did not notice. Relief at seeing Christoper Pike alive and well, despite the damage to his spine that forced him to resign from active duty.

Spock jerked awake in a cold sweat, shaking with the overwhelming sensations. His heart pained him in grief, the broken bond that had been sitting in the back of his mind for years alight with fresh agony. His hands prickled with the feeling of phantom sweat underneath them, and shame made it hard to breathe.

His internal chronometer told him that he needed to get up to prepare for work in only a few minutes. Instead of getting up and making use of the extra time, though, he lay in bed with lethargy-heavy limbs until his alarm went off. This time, the shame was genuine, and not a memory. He had fallen far from what he had once been. Talking would most likely do no good at this point. He needed either a healer- which was far from available- or the ha'karr.

Spock sat up and shut off his alarm clock, and forced himself out of bed. He wanted more than anything to return to bed and sleep dreamlessly until he was no longer tired, but he had a job to do. Besides, if he was late or did not show up, Jim would worry. It was with the goal of sparing Jim any worry that he prepared himself for the day, and departed.


	2. Chapter 2

Of course, Spock could not hide his distress from Jim. He had never been able to hide much from Jim, and whereas at other times he had been grateful, he was not so grateful during this particular occasion. He had been sitting on the bridge, performing as best as he could. It was far more difficult to work after a night of fruitless meditation and poor sleep, Spock had noticed. His thoughts were easily captured by things other than his work, and his hands were slower than they should have been. His entire body, it seemed, was refusing to cooperate with the grace and speed that it normally did.

"...Spock?" Jim queried.

Spock turned in his seat to find the rest of the bridge staring at him, captain included. Most everyone looked confused, but Jim looked rather worried. Spock inwardly cursed himself.

"Yes, captain?"

"Spock, I've called your name twice. Are you alright?"

"I am functional, captain," Spock replied, fighting to keep an embarrassed flush from taking over his face. How could he have been so disturbed that he could not hear someone call his name?

"Alright, then," Jim said, and turned back around in his seat. The rest of the bridge slowly followed his lead, returning their attentions to their own stations.

Minutes later, Spock nearly jumped when he felt a warm, familiar hand settle lightly upon one of his shoulders. He was unsure exactly how long it had been since he had missed his name being called, a fact that deeply unsettled him. When he turned his head, he found Jim gazing down at him in concern.

"Are you sure that you're alright, Spock?" Jim asked quietly. "Missing your own name being called is really not like you."

"I will admit that I am not functioning at peak efficiency," Spock replied. "But I do not believe that it warrants any concern."

"If it's negatively impacting you, of course it warrants concern." Jim was frowning, and Spock wanted to soothe the furrows from his brows, however he kept his hands still. "Your health is important."

"The issue will soon be fixed," Spock said. "I plan on contacting Starfleet Command after shift to inform them of our intent to return to the ha''karr."

"You've been dealing with this for years, though. Why now would it begin to impact you?"

"I believe this conversation is suited for a more private location, sir."

Jim looked guilty for a moment, then stepped back, his hand lifting from Spock's shoulders. For a moment, Spock longed to return Jim's hand to his shoulder, but did not. In the absence of such warmth, Spock's shoulder seemed cold as ice, and he resisted a shudder. Despite a thermal undershirt, the starship still constantly felt cold. For a moment, Spock's entire being cried for want of warmth, for want of Jim, but Spock suppressed that ruthlessly. He was used to being cold, he told himself. It was foolish to suddenly wish for himself to be otherwise.

For the rest of his shift, the place where Jim had laid his hand felt colder than the rest of him.

"Spock!" Jim said, managing to jump between the turbolift doors before they slid shut. It was just the two of them, no other reliefs having arrived to the bridge yet. Spock turned to face Jim, whose face was alight with concern.

"Yes, Jim?"

"I'm concerned about you. Would you like to finish our conversation from earlier before you send off that letter to Command?"

"Of course, sir."

"Your quarters?"

Spock's skin warmed with phantom heat at the thought of his quarters. He nodded at Jim, secretly glad that Jim had not suggested his own quarters. Jim kept his quarters warm by human standards, but still cooler than Spock was entirely comfortable with.

The turbolift halted and opened to let them out onto their floor before presumably returning to the bridge. The corridors were oddly empty for a shift change, but Spock wasn't complaining. On days such as today, where his meditation and sleep the night before had been poor, his mental shields were poor as well. The fewer people he encountered, the better. Jim walked in companionable silence beside him, occasionally humming a fraction of a tune.

Spock noticed his pace subconsciously increasing as he neared his quarters, skin prickling with the anticipation of warmth. Jim, if he noticed made no comment, only increasing his pace to match Spock. When Spock actually entered his quarters, there was an almost tangible relief as the warmth embraced him.

"So," Jim said once the door had slid shut. He leaned against the bulkhead between Spock's room and their shared bathroom. "You've been dealing with your worst memories for years, surely. Why now are they only beginning to affect you? You've said your meditation has gotten harder."

"I have also been dreaming," Spock confessed, tucking his hands behind his back. "They are consistently unpleasant dreams, and my poor meditation had left me unable to cope with the nightmares as well as I should be able to."

"You've been having nightmares?" Jim asked, clearly worried. "Spock, I thought that Vulcans didn't have nightmares. When did they start?"

"We rarely dream, and as we meditate before sleeping, there are no unprocessed issues to cause nightmares. However, I am half human, and therefore dream more often than the average Vulcan, particularly now that my meditation is suffering."

"When did they start?" Jim asked again, evidently not going to let the subject drop.

"The nightmares started the night after you were reverted," Spock finally answered.

"Do you think this has anything to do with me?" Jim asked, pushing himself off of the wall and approaching Spock, arms crossed over his chest. The thought seemed to greatly distress Jim, and Spock wanted to assure Jim that it was not his fault, but that was not something that he could do.

"I am uncertain. I do not believe so, but we cannot be certain, as we know little about the telepathy of the Ohk-Pallas."

Jim frowned and nodded, gaze focused on the floor, then looked up at Spock. He had seemed worried all day because of Spock, it seemed. Spock couldn't help but feel guilty, despite the fact that guilt was illogical. Jim, bright and beautiful, should not ever feel the need to worry about Spock.

"Do you want to talk about the nightmares? Or would you rather draft that message to Command?" Jim asked.

Spock did not want to talk about his nightmares, but he also did not want Jim to leave, which Jim would do if Spock chose to compose his message. Despite his want for Jim to stay, though, Spock knew that it was important that he write the message to Starfleet Command.

"The message to Starfleet Command is of great importance," Spock said. "It takes precedence over speaking of my nightmares."

"Okay," Jim said, nodding. "I can go, then. Do you want me to come back and proofread it before you send it? Not like I'll be much help, but a fresh point of view might provide at least a little bit of help."

"I would welcome your assistance."

Jim smiled and said, "Of course, Spock. I'll be in my room if you need me."

The temperature of Spock's room never changed, but it felt colder when Jim departed through their bathroom. Illogical, Spock told himself, and shook his head to dispel the thought. The presence of a person could not affect the temperature of a room.

Spock sat down at his desk, opening a blank message draft. The cursor blinked forebodingly, and Spock stared for a moment. This message must be flawless, unable to be refused. Each word was important, and Spock was very aware that in his muddled state he was far more likely to make mistakes than usual. He took a deep breath in an attempt to center himself, and began to type.

* * *

It was almost half an hour later when Spock finally entered Jim's room. Jim had prepared himself for bed, and once that was completed, settled down on the couch with some scientific articles. He wore old and faded but very comfortable sweatpants, and an Academy T-shirt that may have once belonged to Bones, but Jim had long since claimed.

"Hey, Spock!" Jim said, and grinned at him.

Inside, though, Jim was worried. Spock had been off, recently. He looked tired and drained all the time, even though it was only noticeable to those who knew him. It was clear that the dreams and inability to meditate well were really getting to him. His eyes seemed darker and dimmer, brown bags beginning to develop under his eyes. He may have even been beginning to loose weight, but Jim wasn't quite sure.

"Jim," Spock said. "I have finished composing the message to Starfleet Command. Would you perhaps provide your assistance before I send it?"

"Of course, Spock," Jim said, setting his PADD aside. He stood to join Spock, but Spock began to recede to his room before Jim could reach him. Jim frowned and followed him.

Spock's room was always hot, far hotter than the rest of the ship and even Jim's quarters, which he kept warm. It always felt like Jim was walking into an invisible wall when he entered Spock's room. He had come to almost enjoy the sensation by now, because the feeling was associated with Spock. The room seemed warmer than usual that day, though, and Jim wondered if it had anything to do with Spock's recent condition.

"Your console?" Jim asked.

Spock nodded, and Jim wandered over to Spock's desk. His room, Jim noticed, wasn't as organized as usual. It was usually immaculate, everything neatly in a designated space. Now, however, Jim saw several things out of place, and it worried him. Spock was a stickler for detail and order, and for him to leave his room in any sort of disarray, however mild, was discomforting.

"Alright, then, let's see..." Jim began, lowering himself into Spock's hellishly uncomfortable desk chair.

In the end, Jim could find no flaw in Spock's writing, which eased his worry somewhat. If there were any things that Spock was good at, it was logic and working with words. It was a relief that these skills had not wavered with Spock's- was condition a proper word? Jim nodded and leaned back as best he could in Spock's chair.

"That looks good, Spock."

"You would make no corrections?"

"None." Jim turned to face Spock, who was lingering nearby. "Why? Did you expect me to?"

"I was merely uncertain that my logic was infallible," Spock replied. "I received little rest last night, and therefore I am less trusting in my abilities than I usually am."

Jim nodded, trying not to let his sadness and worry show, and stood. He approached Spock and placed a hand on his shoulder, but removed it quickly when Spock tensed lightly. The last thing that Jim wanted to do was to make Spock feel uncomfortable.

"Well," Jim said. "I'll let you go to bed, or meditate, or whatever it is that you want to do to try and rest."

Spock simply nodded. His face was unreadable, stony, but he would not meet Jim's eyes and exhaustion was written in every line of his body.

"I'll see you tomorrow morning," Jim said softly, taking a small step back. "Goodnight, Spock."

"Goodnight, Jim," Spock murmured. He still did not move as Jim left.

When the door slid shut between them, Jim was left with the image of Spock standing statuesque and tired in the center of his room. It made Jim's chest ache with the want to protect him, but unsure of what to do or how to help, Jim was given little option but to prepare himself for bed. Despite his own exhaustion, Jim's sleep was restless that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I hope you enjoyed this chapter! As some of you know, I wrote a holiday fic last year. I have already started the one that I have planned for this year, which will be centered around New Year's, so there's that to look forward to. As always, the next chapter should be up in two weeks or less!


	3. Chapter 3

Spock was dragged from a heavy, dreamless slumber by the beeping of his comm. Disoriented, Spock groped blindly for his comm with an stubbornly uncooperative arm. When he finally found it, he flicked it open and brought it closer to his face.

"Spock?" Jim's voice filtered through the comm unit.

He sounded worried again, and Spock felt a sort of desperation overwhelm him for a moment. He did not want Jim to worry, and yet Jim was worrying because of him. It was his inability to rest that was causing Jim worry, a thing that Spock should have entirely under control. Why could he not control it?

"Yes, sir?"

"Spock, you missed breakfast. Are you alright?"

A quick, almost panicked glance at the chronometer showed that he had indeed missed breakfast. If he did not hurry, he would miss the beginning of his shift as well. Mortified, Spock sat up and began to hurriedly prepare for the day.

"I am adequate, Captain." He said, before setting down the comm and putting on his shirts.

"I'm not so sure about that," Jim replied. "Are you sure that you're up to working today? You can rest if you'd like, I'll only call you if the admiralty calls me about your message."

"Negative, sir." Spock said, pulling on socks after putting on pants. "I am functional."

"Alright, then," Jim said. "If you're sure."

"I am certain."

Spock flipped his communicator shut and entered the bathroom to brush his teeth. He ran a comb through his hair to smooth it down into its usual cut, and then exited to put on shoes. Afterwards, he departed his room, walking briskly down the halls to the turbolift.

Shame pulsed in him with every step, making his skin hot and stomach clench. He was Vulcan, raised with Vulcan discipline. For almost all of his life, he had been able to control his sleep and his meditation, and now it seemed that those abilities were slipping from him.

"Spock," Jim said warmly when he emerged on to the bridge.

"Captain," Spock said stiffly, and seated himself at his station.

He was not late for the beginning of his shift, thanks to Jim waking him. However, the fact that he had needed to be woken was alarming. It was highly unusual for him not to be the first one to the bridge, as well. Traces of paranoia began to creep in, and Spock attempted to dismiss them but they refused to be banished.

It was, after all, logical reasoning to assume that if his meditation and sleep continued to be affected, then his control would begin to slip. And if his control began to slip, people would be able to see. They would know his exhaustion and his pain and- oh, please no, let this be kept a secret- his love for Jim.

Spock managed to make it through his shift without a repeat of the previous day's incident. That did not mean that it was an entirely successful day, though. His lethargy, never entirely leaving, caused him to work an average of 13.82% slower than normal, and had found it necessary to double check multiple complex calculations that he had made. It should not have been necessary.

Only moments before the scheduled lunch break for the bridge crew, Nyota straightened in her seat. Her fingers tapped across the console, dark eyes glowing with the reflection of her screen.

"Captain," she said. "There's an incoming message for you and the Commander."

Jim turned at the same time as Spock, and they locked eyes. Spock could not help but feel a tingle run down his spine at the glimmering anticipation in Jim's eyes, his stomach twisting with the same emotion. Finally, an eternity and a moment later, Jim turned his gaze to Nyota.

"Acknowledged, Lieutenant. Send it to my ready room." He stood, adjusting his shirt; and nodded to Spock. "Come on, Spock."

Spock stood, readjusting his own shirt, and tucked his hands behind his back as he followed Jim into his ready room. Spock let his posture slacken a bit when he entered Jim's ready room, as well as letting himself take in the familiar and comfortable atmosphere.

It had been difficult being in this room during Jim's reversion. Spock had felt like an intruder, everything out of place. Everywhere there were small trinkets that reminded him that this was not his ship, his crew, his room. The room had even seemed colder in the way a location does when a person who should be there is not. Illogical, but nevertheless, true. It had been Jim, he believed, who had told him in his teasing way that illogic and truth weren't mutually exclusive.

Spock took his position when Jim sat, behind him and to his right. The screen, blue with a rotating Federation logo, suddenly disappeared. In its place was the face of Admiral Nogura.

"Captain, Commander," Admiral Nogura said in greeting.

"Admiral," Jim replied. Spock simply nodded his head.

"We've received your missive, Commander," Admiral Nogura said, and frowned in Spock's direction before turning his attention back to Jim. "Would you mind telling me why you think it's necessary to make a deviation from your course to let someone screw around in your first officer's head?"

"I believe that your question would be best answered by Commander Spock himself, sir," Jim said.

"I'm asking you, Captain."

Spock could sense a faint impression of annoyance, but Jim kept his composure shockingly well for a human.

"As was said in the message, Commander Spock has been experiencing nightmares and disturbed sleep, negatively affecting his performance." Spock had to fight a wince at the words. They were true, but that didn't make them pleasant.

"Can't he just meditate?" Admiral Nogura asked. "He's Vulcan."

"He's tried meditating," Jim explained, voice the slightest bit tense. "His meditation is suffering too. That's why he's sleeping more and having nightmares."

"Why can't Doctor McCoy prescribe him medicine?" Admiral Nogura asked.

"This is a psychic matter, sir," Jim said. "We cannot simply prescribe some medicine and make it better."

"And why do you want to deviate from course to revisit the ha'karr when the last time you visited, the ship was thrown into chaos?" Admiral Nogura looked skeptical, as if he assumed that we were planning on returning to the ha'karr for a pleasure visit.

"I would hardly call it chaos, sir, and it's not much of a deviation at all. Besides, it's a necessary deviation. Spock, as capable as he is, can't deal with this on his own. That means we have to go to another capable person, and, with all due respect sir, I don't exactly see any Vulcan mind healers floating around out here for us to conveniently make use of."

"You'll lose one of your best officers for as long as it takes if you go find the ha'karr," Admiral Nogura pointed out.

At this point, Spock was wondering if the admiral had read the message at all. Everything that he was asking had been neatly and clearly explained. It was evident that Jim was wondering the same thing, because the look on his face was bordering on suppressed confusion instead of suppressed annoyance.

"Spock is aware of what time in his life he'll be reverted to," Jim said. "And he was already enlisted in Starfleet at that time as an officer. We won't lose any crew members- Spock will still be able to do his job, although I will most likely need to have another officer step up to be my XO temporarily."

"Do you have an officer in mind?"

"Lieutenant Sulu, sir."

"Lieutenant Commander Scott is your designated third in command, however."

"He is," Jim said. "But if you take him away from his engines for too long, he actually begins to exhibit symptoms of withdrawal, somehow. The bridge is not the best place for him. Lieutenant Sulu has experience as first officer and as acting captain, and was on the command track, which is why I believe that he would be a better choice."

Spock could tell that the admiral was trying to poke holes in their argument, but could find no loopholes. His mouth flattened into a thin line, and Spock felt a sense of pride wash over him. Illogical. He buried the feeling.

"Very well," Admiral Nogura said. "Permission granted."

"Thank you, sir." Jim said.

The transmission cut out.

"He does not seem pleased," Spock commented mildly. Jim chuckled.

"No he doesn't. I can't believe he made us re-explain the entire message. Did he even read it?"

"There were several small sections of the message that he did not have us re-explain," Spock said. "However, no, I do not believe that he did."

"Admirals," Jim said in mock disgust. "Remind me never to accept a promotion to that position, Spock."

"You would not welcome the opportunity to help shape Starfleet? Admirals have far more influence than Captains."

"I'm doing just fine at 'shaping Starfleet' out here, with the help of some of the nicer Admirals. Besides," Jim said, turning his chair so that he faced Spock more directly. "Desk jobs don't suit me. I belong out here, Spock."

Spock had no doubt that that was true. Jim did belong in the stars. He was born in the stars, to a family of those who explored the stars. The stars were in his blood, his bones, his eyes, his smile. He was born in the stars, Spock reflected, and he was destined to live and die in them. Even his elder self's Jim Kirk had died among the stars, as the Ambassador had once told him.

The stars were where Jim belonged, that much was evident to any and all. Where, though, did Spock belong?

_By his side,_ a small voice in his head whispered, but he ignored it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I'm currently working on a New Year's themed fic, to be posted on either New Year's Eve or New Year's Day, so you guys can look forward to that!


	4. Chapter 4

It was an entire week before the Enterprise was in a familiar orbit once more. The bridge crew seemed to get a bit antsy at the view of the Ohk-Pallas' planet, and Spock understood. He most likely would've felt the same if he was not so desperate for assistance.

The previous week had been the longest of Spock's life.

He knew what an illogical statement that was. Time was time, and one week could not pass faster than another. Perception of time, however, was a different thing. It was not different to a Vulcan, of course, but Spock was hardly a functional Vulcan by the time he decided that help was necessary.

Spock had hardly meditated or slept, and had lost his appetite. He had secluded himself from everyone, hardly able to handle interaction with others, and his emotional control was incredibly frayed. It almost felt as if everything that made Spock himself was unraveling. Each day was a massive obstacle.

The only person who he had allowed to help him was Jim, and by extension, Doctor McCoy. Spock had not willingly let Leonard fuss over him as the human was prone to doing. Leonard had only been introduced when Jim found Spock collapsed on the floor two days before their arrival due to not eating and not sleeping. Frantic, Jim had called the doctor.

_'Spock?' Jim says, voice faint._

_His head is buzzing and his eyes are shut, but he can't find the willpower to open them. Everything is heavy and he hurts and he's so, so tired but he can't sleep. If he sleeps, the nightmares will come and he can't deal with them. He doesn't know how to deal with them._

_'Spock!'_

_Jim sounds a lot closer, and worried. Spock doesn't want Jim to worry. He wants Jim to laugh, and smile, and exchange very human jokes with various crew members, and play chess with Spock. If Spock could tell him he would, but he can't seem to find the energy to do so. What a shame._

_The black wraps itself around him like a blanket. Jim's hands on his skin, so pleasant, fade and Spock drifts._

Spock had come to in sickbay, hooked up to an IV that was providing him with vital nutrients. The glare that he had received from Leonard was, as Nyota would say, one of legends. Jim, sitting by his bedside, had joked about being offended because Leonard had given a 'patented Jim Kirk glare' to Spock.

The joke had not lessened Leonard's fierce scowl. He had jabbed a hypospray into Spock's neck quite ruthlessly and for no apparent reason, then stood with his arms crossed. In his dazed and emotionally unstable state, Spock was a little bit intimidated by the human.

"What the hell, Spock," he had demanded. "You haven't eaten, you haven't slept, you haven't even meditated! You're practically falling apart, and you didn't come to me, or Christine, or M'Benga, or anybody?"

"I trusted Jim with the details of my condition," Spock said, sounding almost like a petulant child.

"Oh don't even get me started there," McCoy said. "I've got a big goddamn bone to pick with you, Jim, for not coming to me sooner."

Jim had the good grace to look chastised. He did not capture Leonard's ire for very long, though, and far sooner than Spock wanted, he was once again the recipient of Leonard's glaring. Suddenly, Leonard seemed to delate, and when Spock met his eyes they were sad and... worried?

"Dammit, man," Leonard said, but he didn't sound mad, just tired. "You've gotta let us help you. We're doctors, that's what we do. But it's damn difficult to do our jobs when people don't come to us when they need help. D'you understand?"

Spock believed he did. Despite all of their bickering, and despite only exchanging kind words in dire circumstances, Leonard was worried about him. Leonard cared. As a doctor, that was his job, but this was a different kind of caring. This was the caring of a friend.

"Yes, Doctor." He paused before he next spoke, unsure if he was going to voice the thought until it was coming out of his mouth. "My apologies for causing you undue concern."

Jim, still beside Spock's bed, looked like he'd just witnessed a miracle. Upon seeing his face and the growing grin, Leonard slapped the side of his head and Jim scowled.

"What was that for?" Jim demanded.

"For bein' a dumbass, that's what."

"That's unfair," Jim said, but Leonard ignored him.

"You're still sufferin' from malnutrition, and you've got some awful sleep deprivation, which means you ain't going anywhere until we're near safely in orbit, you hear?" Leonard explained, loading a hypospray in a mildly threatening manner. Spock believed he was beginning to understand Jim's dislike of the medical instruments, especially when weirded by Leonard. "So to help you, I've loaded this hypospray with somethin' that'll put you to sleep-" He barreled on, either unaware of or ignoring Spock's mildly panicked look. "-while keeping you from dreaming."

"Hey," Jim said softly, noticing that Spock's tenseness had not abated. "No dreams. It'll be alright."

"Very well," Spock finally said. "I... Am I going to be kept asleep until we arrive?"

"Not the whole time, but for most of the trip, yes. Even full Vulcans can't go an entire week without any sleep or meditation without repercussions." There was no reprimand that followed that statement, but Spock felt the silent one anyways.

Leonard reached out to inject Spock with the hypospray, and Spock let him. It was fast acting, and within moments Spock was already sagging into the pillows behind him. He let his eyes slide shut, sounds beginning to fade as the drug dragged him under.

He thought he felt Jim's hand come to rest over his as he tipped over the edge from consciousness to unconsciousness, but he wasn't quite sure if it was real or imagined.

* * *

True to word, the drug kept Spock in a dreamless sleep until only a few hours before they made orbit. Jim was not by his side when he woke, and Spock tried to suppress his disappointment. He was clearly not able to do so entirely, because Leonard replied before he could even think of voicing his silent question.

"Jim's on the bridge," Leonard said. "And as much as I hate to let you leave, we're almost there, you're no longer suffering from malnutrition, and you've gotten plenty of rest. So if you want to go to the bridge and take your station until we get to our location, then I guess I'll clear you for duty."

"Thank you, Doctor," Spock said, sitting up.

He felt better than he had in a while, even if his head was still disorganized due to his inability to meditate. He contemplated as he put on his uniform why he could possibly have deteriorated so quickly. Perhaps the ha'karr could answer his queries.

Before Spock could leave, Leonard halted him with a hand on his elbow, quickly released. Spock turned to face the doctor, who seemed highly uncomfortable.

"Yes, Leonard?" Spock asked.

"Take care, Spock," Leonard said, and turned away to return to his office.

Spock watched him leave before turning and leaving himself. Leonard McCoy was a constant source of fascination, and it seemed that Spock finally had an answer to a query that he had wondered about for a long time. The two of them were indeed friends.

Everyone who passed him in the corridors nodded politely, as if they knew what was going on. Spock supposed that Jim had to have made an announcement to the crew. After all, they should probably know that there was going to be some changes in the ship's hierarchy for some time.

"Spock!" Jim greeted him when he emerged on to the bridge. "How are you feeling?"

"I am much improved, sir," Spock said, taking his seat. "I anticipate our arrival."

"So do I," Jim said. "We're three hours out."

Three hours. They were a mere 180 minutes away. Only 10,800 seconds away. Three hours seemed like both an eternity and no time at all. Spock almost believed that he could see a similar sentiment in Jim's eyes before he turned away.

The next three hours were grueling. While Spock was adequately rested and had received proper nutrients, his mental shields where incredibly weak. Even being in the same room as so many people was difficult to do. He refused to leave the bridge, however. _Vulcan stubbornness,_ his mother would say, voice never anything but quietly fond when addressing him. _Even worse than human stubbornness._

With a familiar lurching feeling, the ship dropped out of warp around the ha'karr's planet. The bridge was silent for a moment or two, atmosphere shifting to a less easy mood. Jim seemed unaffected by the moods of everyone around him, a look of deep contemplation on his face as he took in the view that he had never become familiar with.

"Lock in orbit, Mister Sulu," Jim said, chin propped on his fist.

"Locking in orbit, sir. Steady orbit achieved."

"Excellent job, Mister Sulu."

Jim stood and turned to Spock, a gentle smile on his face. Spock also rose, alarmed at the fact that he was a little bit unsteady on his feet. They were silent as they entered the turbolift, and silent as they approached the transporter room.

"Are you ready?" Jim asked him quietly as Scotty prepared to beam them down. His eyes were nearly glowing with concern, and Spock felt an ache in his heart at the sight.

"I believe the correct saying is 'As I'll ever be.'"

Jim's face broke into a blinding grin, and he reached out as if to pat Spock on the back as he would often do. He stopped short, though, smile faltering, and pulled his hand back. Spock resisted the urge to grab Jim's hand and place it on his back as Jim had intended to do.

"Sorry," he said. "I know your mental shields are really weak right now. Me touching you probably isn't something you'd want."

"I do not mind your touch, Jim," Spock replied. "However, your consideration is appreciated."

"I'm ready to beam you two down, sir," Scotty said.

Jim sent him a soft smile and gestured for Spock to stand on the transporter pad. The two of them found their positions, and then Jim nodded to Scotty.

"Ready, sir?"

"Ready, Scotty."

The world shimmered and disappeared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! This chapter seemed longer in my notes, but I hope you enjoyed it anyways. The next chapter should be up in two weeks or less, as always!


	5. Chapter 5

Jim and Spock materialized outside of a familiar cave. The sky was cloudless, the warm sun beating down on them. There were small animals chirping and scuttling around in the bushes, making for an almost idyllic scene.

Spock probably would've enjoyed it if his legs hadn't given out from under him as soon as they rematerialized.

Jim made a startled noise and reached out for him. He managed to wrap a hand around Spock's arm and pull him close enough to get a secure grip and lower Spock down gently. The two of them then found themselves kneeling on the slightly damp soil, in a rather intimate embrace by Vulcan standards. Jim's touch was leaking through to his skin, and despite his very poor mental shielding, Spock had no objection to the contact.

It seemed that Jim, did, however, as he quickly pulled his hands away once he realized that Spock wasn't in danger of tipping over. He moved his legs slightly, too, so that they were no longer in contact, and gave Spock a contrite look. Spock felt as if something was tearing inside of him just a little bit with the absence of Jim's touch.

He had never longed like this for Nyota. What was the difference? How could Jim affect him so drastically, when Nyota did not? Perhaps it was Spock's lack of control, which was currently so negatively affecting him. But Jim had always affected him more than he reasonably should have. Spock was at a loss to explain it.

"I'm sorry for touching you," Jim said. "Again. The ha'karr was informed of our arrival, a guide should arrive any minute. Do you want to stay sitting until they arrive? It's a long walk down, I don't want you to tire yourself."

"I am able to stand, Jim," Spock said. "My fall was due to a momentary weakness."

Jim didn't look convinced or happy, but he stood, and Spock followed. His eyes were too focused on Spock, as if he were waiting for a sign that would betray imminent collapse. Spock was grateful for his concern, but at the same time was distressed because Jim was worrying about him again.

"Captain Kirk," a high voice stated, sounding pleased. "Commander Spock. The ha'karr has sent me to fetch you both."

"Karrea?" Jim asked.

"Yes, Captain Kirk."

Jim grinned at her, and Spock recalled that his own guide on his trip with Leonard had been named Karrea. Were they the same? It was hard to tell if the two guides were the same or not, with how similar all members of each sex looked.

"It's a pleasure to see you again," Jim said as the two of them approached Karrea. When they reached her, she receded into the caves.

"It is pleasureful to see you as well, Captain Kirk," Karrea responded. "You are much improved."

"Yeah," Jim said. "Yeah, I am. Can you tell?" Spock stayed silent behind the two of them, observing.

"All Ohk-Pallas are able to tell the state of others, to a degree," Karrea said. "Our memories are very good, and I can sense that your state has changed." She turned to Spock, owlish eyes unsettling and unblinking. "You have dark too. Is that why you are here?"

"It is part of the reason, yes," Spock said.

"Good," Karrea said. "That is good. You have much to be healed, too."

They spent the rest of the trip to the main chamber in discussion, but did not return to the topic of darkness or getting fixed. For that, Spock was grateful. He had no desire to speak of what ailed him.

The vegetation was a bit larger than Spock remembered it, and still glowing, although it was a different color. Instead of a light blue, it was a pale minty green.

"Oh," Jim said. "The vegetation changes color?"

"Yes," Karrea said, nodding. "The water comes down from the mountain top, and during Season Change, the minerals in the water change, too. This changes the color of the vegetation."

"Fascinating," Spock murmured.

Karrea stopped on the little bridge that spanned the stream, and turned her eyes on Spock. She gestured to the water, and opened her small mouth. Spock realized suddenly just how many sharp little teeth that the Ohk-Pallas had.

"Take a stone from the river," she said.

"I know Vulcans don't like getting wet," Jim said, turning to him. His eyes were so very open, and Spock could easily read concern without even touching him. "I could pick a stone for you, if you'd like."

"Commander Spock must choose his own stone, Captain Kirk," Karrea said. "As you chose yours and your guards chose theirs."

"That will not be necessary, then," Spock told Jim. "However, your offer is appreciated."

Spock did detest getting wet, but putting a single hand into the water was far preferable to complete submersion. He surveyed the stones in the river, which shone like precious gems. None of them were particularly remarkable. Spock looked to the other side of the bridge, and when his eyes fell upon a small, unassuming stone nestled between two larger ones in the center of the river, he felt as if something was tugging on his mind. He knelt down, assisted by one of Jim's hands on his shoulder when he wobbled slightly, and plucked the small gem-like stone from the river.

"Oh," Karrea said. "I see."

"What do you mean?" Jim asked, a hand resting on Spock's back for a moment as he stood. It disappeared once it was clear that Spock was not going to fall over.

"Do you remember the choosing of your own rock, Captain Kirk?"

Spock certainly remembered Jim's stone, if not its choosing. When Jim had awoken in his bed nearly a month ago, he had been completely bare. The only thing that he had possessed was a diamond-like stone in his right hand, which had been curled into a fist. After getting over the fact that he was back to normal and getting dressed so as not to scandalize Spock, he had explained the stone. How Karrea had offered one to each of them, and how he had felt as if it had called to him.

"I do," Jim said, clearly confused. "Is that important?"

"The ha'karr will explain," Karrea said, and turned away. "She is waiting."

"Then lead the way," Jim said, gesturing for her to proceed.

The ha'karr was indeed waiting for them when they entered the clearing with her throne. She wore different robes, but the crown was still in place on her bulbous head. The ha'karr grinned, sharp teeth bared and eyes alight with pleasure.

"Esteemed ha'karr," Jim said, and bowed. Spock attempted to follow his lead, but stood back up when vertigo made his head spin and knees go weak.

The ha'karr's eyes focused on Spock like a predator on its prey. She tipped her head the slightest bit and did not speak for a moment. Spock did not look away from her eyes as they seemed to assess him.

"Captain Kirk," she said. "You are here for Commander Spock, no?"

"That's correct."

"This is good. He requires immediate assistance. I must admit that I had not anticipated such a reaction. Follow me." When the ha'karr began to walk, Jim and Spock followed.

"Show her your stone, Commander Spock," Karrea said, but when Spock turned, she was gone.

The walk with the ha'karr was silent. Spock reasoned that there was a telepathic conversation happening between the ha'karr and Jim, however, because at several points during the journey he would nod or shake his head for no discernible reason. Spock wondered if they were discussing him. When they found themselves in the room where Spock and Leonard had previously met the ha'karr, the ha'karr finally spoke.

"Please," she said. "Take a seat."

They did, the ha'karr at the head of the table, Spock to her left, and Jim to Spock's left. The ha'karr shifted in her seat to face Jim and Spock more fully, and Spock felt embarrassingly revealed under her sharp gaze.

"Tell me why you have returned here in such desperation," she said. The demand was clearly aimed at Spock, and he took a moment to compose himself.

"Nearly a month ago, Captain Kirk was reverted after having received your gift," Spock began, as if he was delivering mission report. "There were no issues. That night, however, I found myself unable to meditate as well as I should have been able to, and suffered from a nightmare. This was highly unusual for a Vulcan, as we rarely dream at all, and have nightmares even less frequently.

"I have not been able to meditate adequately since the night of Captain Kirk's reversion, and poor meditation led me to need to sleep more often than usual. However, I found myself unable to sleep without suffering from nightmares, and this cycle began to take a physical and mental toll on me. My appetite vanished, and I stopped sleeping in order to avoid nightmares. My mental shields have been steadily degrading. Three days ago, I collapsed due to exhaustion and malnutrition. My mental shields currently barely exist.

"I reasoned that you would be able to remedy this issue. The problems started the night after your gift disappeared, so the logical conclusion is that your gift had or has something to do with my condition."

The ha'karr had remained silent while Spock spoke, and nodded when he finished. There was a moment of silence as the ha'karr thought. Jim exchanged a look with him that was partially nervous and partially excited.

"I regret to inform you that your condition is indeed tied to my gift. It was not my intention to cause you any distress, and I apologize most sincerely. There are a variety of solutions, but we must first know why you were affected before we can choose a remedy."

"Your stone," Jim said, and turned to Spock. "Karrea said to show the ha'karr your stone."

"A stone from the river?"

"Yes," Spock said. "I was urged to take a stone, as Captain Kirk was."

"Show me your stone," the ha'karr demanded, sitting up straighter. "The stones may help us discover why you were affected."

Spock raised his hand and set his stone on the table. It seemed to shine despite the lack of anything to reflect, and Spock felt almost itchy leaving it out in the open and not in a secure location.

"Oh," the ha'karr said. "Oh, I see."

"What is it?" Jim asked.

"You are a Match."

Jim and Spock exchanged confused glances before looking back at the ha'karr. She seemed to be excited, her eyes glittering with some kind of delight. Jim cleared his throat gently before speaking.

"What does that mean, a Match?"

"You are both compatible in every way," the ha'karr explained. "Mind, body, and soul. It has been hundreds of year since a Match has been found."

Spock's heart seemed to stutter at the ha'karr's definition. It seemed far too close to another, Vulcan description. That couldn't be possible, though. Surely someone as beautiful, and radiant, and kind as Jim, someone who could have anyone they wanted, would never be partnered with Spock in such a way

"What is the significance of the stones?" Spock asked. "How could you tell that the Captain and I are a Match by viewing the stone that I selected?"

"Each stone has an... aura, I believe is the correct word. That is how I can tell. You were both drawn to stones with identical auras."

"Does that help you fix Spock?" Jim asked. "We were hoping that it would help if you just gave him the same gift that you gave me."

"That is precisely what is needed to help fix this situation," the ha'karr said. "Your two souls were similarly broken, but when one of them was suddenly much improved, it caused mayhem within the soul of the one who had not been improved. I did not take in to account the possibility of you being a member of a Match, Captain Kirk, and I extend my apologies. Matches are so rare, and I was not aware that a human could be a member of one."

"No offense is taken where none is meant," Jim said kindly. "As long as you can fix Spock, I'm happy."

"I will grant him the gift immediately, if that is acceptable."

"It is," Spock said.

"Your path to reversion will not be identical to Captain Kirk's, Commander Spock."

"I am aware. Please proceed."

The ha'karr reached out and placed the middle of her three fingers on each of Spock's temples. Spock let his eyes close as she began to whisper nonsensical things in a language that he could not possibly hope to decipher. When she retracted her hands, Spock opened his eyes and blinked slowly. He felt no different, but-

"It is done," the ha'karr said, and inclined her head. "Live well, Commander Spock, Captain Kirk. May you find each other."

"Live well," Spock echoed.

The three of them stood and began their journey out, all of them silent. When they reached the throne, they were rejoined by Karrea. The ha'karr nodded a goodbye as they began their journey back to the surface.

Multiple times on the journey back to the surface, Spock nearly slipped. Each time, Jim reached out and caught him, and each time he hastily retracted his hands. For the last five minutes of the journey, Jim seemed to give up, and kept his hand on Spock's back in case he fell again. Spock did not complain.

"Do you know what time you'll end up being reverted to?" Jim asked quietly once Karrea had returned to the caves.

"I believe I will find myself soon after the destruction of Vulcan," Spock replied in a similar tone.

Spock turned his head to find Jim with a stricken expression. He tipped his head, hoping that Jim would understand his silent question. It seemed that Jim did, because he responded quietly and sadly.

"You hated me then," Jim said, a sort of quiet devastation coming to rest over his features. Spock felt a similar emotion rise in him.

"Then I suppose you will need to use your 'Kirk charm' to regain my friendship," Spock said. "I believe that you are more than capable of doing that."

Jim broke in to a smile, which faded quickly. He looked off into the distance, then turned back to Spock and nodded hard.

"I suppose I just might," he said, then smiled again and raised his communicator to his lips. "Two to beam up, Scotty."

As Spock felt the world dissolve around him, he thought he heard Jim's voice saying, ever so sadly, "I'll see you soon."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I hope you enjoyed this chapter! As always, the next chapter will be up in two weeks or less, and you'll get to see what happens to Spock...


	6. Chapter 6

Jim felt his stomach sink upon rematerialization, and not in the usual way. He locked eyes with Scotty, standing nervously behind the console. Dread churning in his stomach, Jim took a small step away from Spock before turning to him. He tired to control his shaking hands.

Spock seemed confused and a little bit lost for a moment, before his gaze found Jim's. Within a moment, the confusion was gone, replaced by hatred before famed Vulcan shields slammed down. Jim was left staring into the face of his friend, but it no longer truly resembled his friend. Spock took a step away from Jim, tucked his hands behind his back, and straightened his back.

"Cadet Kirk," he said coldly.

Jim felt a sharp pain in his chest and had to fight to keep a non-devastated face. He took a deep breath and forced his own face into a neutral expression. It hurt him to act so fake around Spock, but it had to be done for the sake of Jim's own emotions

"Captain Kirk, actually. What's the last thing you remember?"

"That is none of your concern, Cadet."

"It actually is the captain's concern when a member of his crew develops amnesia, believe it or not," a familiar southern voice drawled.

Jim almost deflated in relief when he looked over his shoulder to see Bones entering the room, followed by Nyota. Bones looked tense and uptight, as he often had in his early days of interaction with Spock. Nyota looked sad, and for good reason. Her oldest, best friend on the whole ship was suffering emotionally and now- for lack of a much better term- had amnesia.

"Amnesia?" Spock asked, seeming a bit taken aback. He didn't seem argumentative yet, which was a good thing for Jim's mental state.

"Go with Doctor McCoy, Spock," Nyota prompted gently. "We'll explain everything in sickbay. The captain will come along with us to help."

"Cadet Kirk is now the Captain of the _Enterprise?"_ Spock said, sending Jim a mistrustful glance. The _'and you're still on a ship run by this pig, Nyota?'_ went unvoiced.

"I am," Jim said, fighting to keep his face impassive. It was painful, hearing Spock talk like that. Whenever he had previously expressed doubts about deserving his captaincy, it was always Spock who helped him out of the slump. To hear that same voice talk in such a cynical tone about his captaincy hurt deeply.

"It'll all be explained, but you've got to come with us to Sickbay so Leonard can make sure you're all right."

Spock clearly had more questions, but he acquiesced and stepped down off of the platform to follow Nyota and Bones. Jim walked behind him, and let his diplomatic mask down. It was tiring to keep it on for too long when he was so emotionally tired, and Spock couldn't see him anyways.

The trip down to sickbay seemed like it took an eternity. Jim's insides felt cold, and he felt lonelier than he had in a long time. Had this been anything like what Spock had felt while he had been a teenager? Perhaps it had, but Jim didn't think so.

When he had been a teenager, he had obviously not been Captain Kirk. This new Spock, though... if Jim didn't know, he never would have guessed. He looked the same as he always did, and that may have been the worst thing. There was no clear distinction between New Spock and Old Spock- every harsh word out of Spock's mouth would hurt as if his friend Spock had said it until Jim managed to get it into his head that this was the Spock who stranded him on Delta Vega.

"I require an explanation," Spock said as soon as he had sat down on a biobed. Bones, who was running scans on him with a tricorder, didn't answer.

"This is a long story," Nyota said.

"Then I suggest you begin it promptly," Spock replied.

"Well, at least your sense of humor hasn't changed," Jim said.

Spock turned his blank stare on Jim, and Jim's humor died a cold, shriveling death in his chest. He was left feeling worse than before he'd cracked the joke, which hadn't exactly been the best state, either. Jim looked away and found Nyota giving him a slightly pitying look, and that wasn't much better than Spock's stare. Jim decided to cross his arms over his chest and lean back against a separate biobed, staring at the back of Bones' head.

"What's the last thing you remember?" Bones asked, stepping back.

"Cadet Kirk had somehow found his way back on board the _Enterprise_ after I stranded him on Delta Vega for insubordination. I was beginning to question him as to how he managed to get back aboard the _Enterprise_ while it was traveling at warp speed."

"Damn," Bones said, something almost like relief in his voice. "Okay. The current stardate is 2263.9, so you're missing approximately 5 years. Not too bad, you could've ended up like Jim-"

"I resent that statement, Bones," Jim said.

"And I resented having to pry information out of you, looks like we're even."

"Did... James Kirk suffer from amnesia as well, at a point in time?"

It seemed that Spock was reluctant to use Jim's title, and to be fair, it made sense. In Spock's eyes, Jim was still an asshole of a cadet. Who wouldn't be reluctant to address a cadet as captain?

That didn't mean it didn't hurt.

"You could say that," Bones said. "I'm going to have to let you leave for now, but I want you back here tomorrow, and you're off duty, too. Take some time to meditate and catch up on the happenings of the universe. Now please get him out of my sickbay before he starts insulting me, Nyota."

Nyota smiled, and Jim could've swore he saw Spock's eyes soften somewhat. A spurt of pain took his breath away, and he tried to reason it away. Spock still though Nyota was his girlfriend, of course he'd be soft on her. Of course Spock wouldn't be soft on him, because Spock didn't remember their friendship. Spock remembered throwing him off of the ship and calling him up on academic charges.

"Do you think it would be better if he were to ask some questions and have them answered here?" Nyota asked. "That way if he remembers anything or has a reaction to something- we don't know how the ha'karr could affect Vulcan telepathy- he's under your observation."

"That's... That's a good idea," Bones said. "Jim, you're probably gonna have to stay. No doubt Spock'll ask some questions that neither Nyota nor I can answer."

"It's fine," Jim said lightly, waving a dismissive hand. "The reports can wait."

There was really nothing Jim wanted to do more than slink back to his quarters and do reports in peace, but he didn't say that. Wanting to do reports was so unlike Jim that Bones would probably ask him why he suddenly wanted to do one of his least favorite activities. With Spock right there, though, Jim wasn't going to tell Bones that he just wanted to be away from Spock, and he wasn't sure he would be able to charm or lie his way out of it if Bones got him in his sights.

"Alright, Spock," Bones said, stepping back to join Jim against the edge of a biobed. "Fire away."

"Pardon?"

"He means ask any questions you want," Nyota said kindly. "Any that don't involve asking what happened in the last five years. I can send a message of those events to you later."

"Thank you, Nyota," Spock said, nodding. His eyes seemed to catch on her necklace, and his head tilted in curiosity. "Are we bonded? I feel no bond between us in my mind, but you wear my mother's necklace."

Jim ignored the way that Spock's voice caught just the slightest bit on the word 'mother.' He also ignored the way his heart tugged painfully in his chest, desiring to give comfort that Spock would not accept, and he ignored the weird feeling in his stomach that he always got at the thought of Spock and Nyota being bonded.

"No," Nyota said. "No, definitely not. We broke up almost seven months ago. You gave this to me as a gift. I tried to return it when we broke up, seeing as it was your mother's, but you wouldn't let me."

"The receiving of which one has already given as a gift is not in the Vulcan custom," Spock said. He then turned his gaze to Jim, who tensed in anticipation of cruel words.

"Hey," Jim said. "First off, before you ask any questions or say anything mean, I can assure you that I'm not as big of a douchebag as you think. Or maybe I was and I've matured, who knows."

"You must have somehow taken over the captaincy after my memory ends," Spock said, ignoring Jim's statement. "When we returned to Earth, what were your punishments for your lack of academic integrity and insubordination?"

Well. There was something to be valued in Vulcan bluntness, Jim figured. That didn't mean that Spock's words didn't hurt like hell, a hot sting near his heart.

"Uh," Jim said, at a temporary loss for words. He could feel Bones silently fuming beside him, but had no clue how Nyota had responded. "The only punishment I received was all the paperwork that comes with a captaincy. They upheld my field promotion."

"What did you do to warrant such special treatment?" Spock asked. He almost sounded condescending, and Jim had to remind himself that words shouldn't hurt as much as they were.

"He saved Earth," Bones said, sounding pissed. "Which would have been destroyed under your acting captaincy, Spock."

Spock looked to Nyota, as if he needed her permission to believe anything that Jim or Bones said. That stung like a bitch, and Jim leaned in to Bones if only to press their arms together and reassure himself that there was someone who wouldn't let Spock verbally shit all over him without a fight.

"It's true," Nyota said. "If Jim hadn't removed you from captaincy and taken control of the ship, Earth would've been destroyed."

"I was removed from captaincy?" Spock asked.

"You were already emotionally compromised," Jim said. "All I had to do was get you to show it."

"Yeah, and that worked great for you," Bones commented dryly.

"You were able to emotionally compromise me?" Spock asked. He almost seemed surprised.

"You've just lost your planet and your mother," Nyota explained kindly. "You already are emotionally compromised."

"And in your emotionally compromised state, you almost killed him," Bones said. Jim didn't even need to look to know that there was a deep scowl on his face.

"What did you do to me?" Spock asked Jim in a vaguely accusatory tone.

Jim didn't respond immediately, looking down at his feet. Shame rose up in him like a great tidal wave, as it always did when he reflected upon that event. Bones nudged him gently, and he looked up to face his friend.

"Ny and I ain't gonna tell him, Jim," Bones said gently. It's up to you to tell him or not. You don't have to."

"No," Jim muttered. "No, I've gotta tell him. I'm not going to shrink away from my actions." When he looked up at Spock, he found himself being studied by dark eyes. "I... Only a minute or two after your memory ends, I started to really try and get you to display compromise. When my previous tactics didn't work, I had to switch to a final resort. I said some awful, awful things about your mother. In the end, that's probably what saved Earth, because it's what made you snap, but I regret it every day. It was a cheap shot, and she was a good woman."

Spock's eyes began to fill with a hint of familiar pain as Jim spoke. When he finished, though, Spock said nothing for several long moments.

"Fascinating," was all he said, in the end. Fascinating? Was that all that Jim's shame was? Then, "Nyota, you have expressed your dislike of Cadet-"

"Captain," Nyota corrected him. Jim felt a burst of affection for her with her quick correction.

"Captain Kirk multiple times in the past. Why would you have stayed on board the _Enterprise_ when he was given captaincy?"

"Because I realized that Jim wasn't all that I made him out to be," Nyota said simply. "I listened to him jump of off a drill hanging thousands of feet above a crumbling planet to save a man that he'd first met not even an hour before. I watched him comfort a Vulcan child who was in tears due to the mentally agonizing loss of everyone and everything he'd ever known. I watched when every time someone tried to give him all of the credit for saving Earth, he deflected and talked about everyone but himself. I realized that that cocky, arrogant person he let everyone believe was the real him was just a facade."

Jim had never been good at accepting compliments, and while her words helped ease the pain of Spock's, they also made his face burn. Nyota looked over at him and laughed quietly.

"Softie," she said.

"I'm not a softie," Jim said. "I am a famous, ruggedly handsome Starfleet captain."

"And a softie."

"Nyota, oh my stars-"

"She had given you permission to use her first name?" Spock asked warily.

"I mean, unless she rescinded her permission, then yeah," Jim said. "It's fairly recent permission."

Spock continued to look at Jim like he had no clue what to make of him. Jim tried not to let it get to him, but the low, throbbing ache in his chest was persistent.

"Is my amnesia artificial, Doctor?" Spock asked, the first time he had directed a question towards Bones.

"It is," Bones said, sounding a little surprised. "How'd you know?"

"I arrived on this ship with missing memory, but I have no head wound that could have caused amnesia."

"You were in a bad mental place, and we couldn't find a Vulcan healer," Jim explained. "So we went to the person who gave me my 'amnesia.' Turns out, my amnesia was kind of a trigger for you. A Vulcan healer probably wouldn't have done anything."

"How could your amnesia have affected me?" Spock asked. "It was your mind that would have been affected, not mine."

That was going to be a doozy of a question. How could Jim possibly explain to Spock that the two of them were supposedly a Match, two people compatible on every level? Spock didn't exactly like him.

Mercifully, Jim's comm beeped.

"Captain," Lieutenant Mara said. She was Nyota's temporary replacement while Nyota was in sickbay with Spock. "You've received a message from New Vulcan, from Ambassador Sarek."

"I'll be right up, Lieutenant," Jim said. "Thank you."

He flipped his comm shut and stepped away from the biobed, giving Bones a slap on the back. Nyota smiled at him.

"Tell the Ambassador that I say hello," she said.

"Will do," Jim said. "Bye, Bones. Bye, Nyota." He hesitated for a moment, half turned away, then turned back around and said, "Goodbye, Spock."

Spock did not reply, but Jim hadn't expected him to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Happy Holidays! My New Year's oneshot will be up either on New Year's Eve or New Year's Day, and you'll be able to find it with all of my other works. I hope you guys enjoy this chapter, and have a good rest of the year!


	7. Chapter 7

"Ambassador," Jim greeted Sarek. He had been anticipating some kind of message soon. Sarek could probably sense that there was something amiss with his son through their familial bond.

"Captain. Is my son well?" Sarek asked, cutting right to the chase.

"We visited the ha'karr earlier today," Jim said. "He's been reverted. What you may be feeling from your bond with him is the destruction of Vulcan."

"I see," Sarek said.

"Spock can't have been the only reason that you contacted me," Jim said. "Is there news concerning New Vulcan?"

"There is," Sarek said. "However, there is no news that I believe you would find particularly concerning. The construction of the Science Academy continues with no complications. Elder T'Seka was elected to the new High Council last week, and has begun an irrigation project that will benefit our agricultural system, increasing crop yields."

"That's excellent," Jim said. "I'm glad to hear that the colony is prospering."

"We are recovering, albeit slowly," Sarek replied. "However, assistance would be most welcome. I have asked Starfleet to send the _Enterprise_ to assist the colony with a new project proposed by Sorin. It is to be a volunteer program, and the presence of Starfleet's flagship will no doubt draw the presence of many volunteers."

"That's a wonderful idea," Jim said enthusiastically. "I look forward to assisting in any way I can. Perhaps a mind healer would be able to help Spock out some while we're there, if there's time. I know that the healers are still pretty busy because of all of the impacts of so many severed bonds."

"I will look into scheduling an appointment with a mind healer for Spock."

"Excellent!"

There was a moment where neither of them spoke. Sarek shifted just slightly in his seat, and Jim tensed. A shifty, awkward Vulcan was never good news. Before Sarek spoke, there seemed to be hesitation in his body language.

"I must admit," Sarek said. "I that this is a conversation that my wife would be far better suited to engage in.  
It is a conversation that is best to be had now, however, as it would be far more... awkward... if I were to engage you in this conversation in person."

"Okay," Jim said slowly. "What conversation is this?"

"Are you in love with my son?" Sarek asked.

Jim forgot how to speak for a moment, reeling from the blunt question. When he remembered that he was supposed to answer, Sarek was staring at him expectantly. The eyebrow raise couldn't hide the awkwardness that Sarek was trying his best to conceal, however.

Jim thought for a moment.

Sure, he loved Spock. He loved Bones, too. But was he _in love_ with Spock? Jim didn't think so. He found Spock sexually appealing, but there was hardly a soul on the ship who didn't. He would do anything for Spock, but he'd do anything for Bones or any other friends, so that was a poor question.

For a moment, he tried to picture a domestic life with Bones. Making pancakes in the morning, taking children to school-

It was a disturbing thought.

He then replaced Bones with Spock, and imagined the same domestic scenario. Waking up in a warm bed curled up next to a warmer husband, slow and lazy good morning kisses, making pancakes for the whole family and dropping off children with pointed ears and blonde hair at school-

Oh.

Well, shit.

"Yes," Jim finally admitted awkwardly, cheeks burning. "Yes. I'm... I'm in love with Spock."

This was so not a good conversation to be having with Spock's _father_ , an uptight Vulcan who seemed to scorn all emotion. However, there were days when things just didn't seem to go Jim's way at all. This seemed like it was going to be one of them.

"Then I entrust you with his well being," Sarek said solemnly. "For he is fragile, as strong as he may seem, and needs someone to take care of him."

"He has more people than me to do that, Ambassador," Jim said. "But I promise that I will do everything I can and then some to help Spock."

"We will see each other again when you arrive at the colony," Sarek said. "Until then, I bid you a fruitful journey." He raised his hand in the familiar salute. "Live long and prosper."

"Live long and prosper," Jim said, returning the gesture.

Sarek cut the transmission, and Jim was left sitting in his chair feeling as if he'd just woken from a bizarre dream. Surely he had to have imagined his conversation with Sarek, because how much more unusual could his day have gotten?

A lot more unusual, it seemed.

Jim's comm buzzed, and he pressed accept. Perhaps ship business would help distract him and give him the ability to get his head back in a less confused place.

"Captain," Lieutenant Mara said. "You've received a missive from Starfleet Command."

"Thank you, Lieutenant," he replied. "Send it to my ready room."

Jim's console beeped with an incoming message, and Jim opened it. The message was their next mission, to be embarked upon immediately. Jim and the _Enterprise_ were to report to New Vulcan and assist in a new volunteer project for publicity. Jim cracked a grin, and grabbed his comm to contact Bones.

* * *

When the door slid shut behind Cadet- Captain- Kirk, Spock turned to Nyota. She was staring at him with an odd look, and Spock believed that he could sense anger and love and pity in her eyes. Not that he was going to try too hard to understand her emotions, because his own were more chaotic than Spock had thought they could ever be.

"New Vulcan?"

The words sounded bitter and wrong on his tongue. It had clearly been humans who had named the planet in question. They had an alarming amount of precedents for it. New Mexico, New England, New Wales, New Guinea. As if by putting the word 'new' there, they could make it bright and shiny and appealing.

"It's the Vulcan colony," McCoy said. "I dunno why we just stick a 'new' on the front and expect y'all to be hunky dory when you've just lost so much-"

Nyota cleared her throat.

"But y'all're settlin' in okay," McCoy finished quickly, clearly intimidated by Nyota.

Spock was surprised to have found the Doctor mirroring his own thoughts. One of his last memories of the Doctor was being berated by him for abandoning Kirk. Spock never would have assumed that the two of them would think similarly about anything, and yet...

"Why would my father have contacted Kirk?" Spock asked.

From what Spock remembered, his father wanted very little to do with him, and he was not a member of Starfleet. For what reason would he contact a Starfleet captain? Certainly it would not be due to anything concerning him.

"It could be something to do with the colony. He's one of the main leaders there," Nyota explained. "The current High Council members are T'Pau, your father, and five others named T'Elim, Sapok, Sorin, T'Mel and T'Ralin. There was an eighth leader named Selek, but he passed away about seven months ago."

"Damn shame, too," McCoy said, shaking his head. "Selek was really the main force behind rebuilding, and he was the least condescending, most sociable Vulcans I've ever met."

"Is that meant as an insult, Doctor?" Spock asked, spine straightening.

"No," McCoy said. "That's fact." He seemed less hostile than Spock had ever observed him being, although Spock supposed that having spent years on the same starship would have lessened their antagonism towards each other.

"Selek was definitely different," Nyota said. "He seemed far more... human than other Vulcans."

"Human?" Spock said, appalled.

"Yeah," McCoy said. "That was the weirdest thing about 'im. He was so _human_. It was a good weird, though."

The two humans were silent for a moment in reflection of their lost friend. Spock turned his gaze to Nyota, wanting to satiate his curiosity.

"I would like an explanation as to how I acquired my amnesia, since it is artificial," he said.

"That's going to take a while to explain," Nyota said. "But I've got little choice, because it's probably one of the most important questions. Over a month ago, our ship was sent to the planet we're currently orbiting to try and get them to join the Federation. Captain Kirk was the sole negotiator. As a show of good will, the leader of that society gave Jim a 'gift.' It was a telepathic gift, but upon beaming back up, Jim was reverted to how he was physically and mentally during the darkest time in his life.

"It was like amnesia, except it was almost amnesia of the body, too. He was not just mentally, but physically a thirteen year old again. The bridge crew, his family, had to take care of him until he was reverted. After his reversion, you... you began to suffer.

"You couldn't meditate, couldn't sleep without having nightmares. Eventually, you lost your appetite and stopped eating. It was a good thing that Starfleet granted us permission to return when they did, because you collapsed three days ago. Jim found you on the floor in your quarters, and carried you down to sickbay. I... he passed me in the hallway, and stars, Spock, it was the most awful sight." Nyota's voice sounded terribly, achingly sad. "You looked almost dead.

"We finally arrived earlier today, and you only woke up from your medically induced sleep a couple of hours before that. You and the captain beamed down to get some answers about why you were suffering, because we believed it was tied back to all of this. When you beamed up, well, that's when your memory skips from you having a confrontation with Jim to standing on a transporter pad."

"I am currently at the darkest point in my life, then?" Spock asked.

"Yes," Nyota replied. "My guess is that you never learned how to deal with the loss of so much in a healthy way, and it festered. Then something happened with Jim's reversion, and it was almost like a tipping point."

"Jim could probably explain that," McCoy said. "I'm sure the two of you asked the ha'karr all sorts of questions about the details of these gifts."

"It seems that I will need to ask Kirk more questions when I next have the opportunity to do so," Spock said.

McCoy's comm beeped, and Spock looked over at the doctor.

"McCoy here," he said.

"Bones! Guess what our next assignment is?" Jim's voice said. "It just came in."

"What is it?" McCoy asked. "It's not somethin' like that ocean planet we went to about two months ago, is it?"

"Nope, it's basically the opposite," Jim said. "We get to go to New Vulcan! One of the High Council members is starting up this volunteer program to help benefit the colony, and the _Enterprise_ crew is supposed to volunteer in order to get publicity and draw volunteers."

"Yeah, because we're just regular old celebrities," McCoy drawled sarcastically.

"We kind of are, Bones," Jim said. "Anyways, what's going on down there? Did I miss anything interesting?"

"Well, Ny just briefed Spock on what happened to him in the past month. He's got some more questions for you, so if you wanna get your ass back down here..."

"Yeah, of course," Jim replied. "Give me... five minutes? I need to inform Sulu of his new position."

"Got it," McCoy said.

"This 'Sulu' that Kirk refers to, is he Hikaru Sulu?" Spock asked.

"He is," Nyota said. "He's temporarily taking over the position of first officer."

"Was I formerly the first officer of this ship?"

"Yeah," McCoy said. "And Chief Science Officer on top of that, but with you having to deal with the artificial amnesia, Jim figured it would be best for you to only deal with one of those sets of responsibilities right now."

"That is... logical."

"He can be logical sometimes," McCoy said defensively. "Now, to be fair, it's a pretty rare occurrence, but still."

"Why would Kirk enlist me as his first officer after I had stranded him on a frigid planet?" Spock asked, looking over to Nyota for his answer.

"And then you tried to murder him, and he still wouldn't accept anyone but you as his first officer when they gave him his captaincy," Nyota said. "To be honest, I don't know. That's another question for Jim."

Another question occurred to Spock, and he opened his mouth to voice it.

"Why would I join his crew?" Spock asked.

"That's not a question that anyone but you can answer," McCoy said. "But maybe if you hang around Jim for long enough, you'll understand."

"Perhaps," Spock said quietly.

He was hesitant to trust McCoy in non-medical mattes, but Nyota seemed to agree, and what McCoy had said made sense. For some reason, Spock had decided to stay on board the _Enterprise_. He could not receive an answer from anyone else nor himself, so attempting to recreate the situation in which he made the decision to stay via exposure to Kirk might just provide him with answers.

Truly, nothing seemed to make much logical sense now. All Spock could do was try to orient himself and regain some semblance of logic, and even that was sure to be difficult. He certainly had a lot of work ahead of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Happy New Year! My New Year's related ficlet is on my page if anyone would like to check it out, and I hope you all enjoy this chapter'


	8. Chapter 8

When the doors to sickbay slid open to reveal Kirk, Spock took a moment to look at him. His grin was wide, eyes a curious blue that was brighter than anything natural that Spock had ever seen. He seemed happy and perfectly at ease in sickbay, a place where few besides the medical staff felt entire comfortable.

When Kirk's eyes landed on Spock, after having first landed on McCoy, his eyes lost some of their happiness, smile faltering. Spock tried not to let the clear disappointment that he was still there throw his emotions any more off balance. They were chaotic enough in the first place without entirely unwarranted dejectedness, especially dejectedness caused by a man who he did not particularly care for.

"Hey, Bones!" Kirk said, gaze returning to McCoy. "How's everything going?"

"It's going," McCoy muttered.

"Sounds cool. You said Spock had some more questions?"

Kirk looked over to Spock, and Spock took that as his cue to speak.

"I am currently at the darkest point in my life, if Nyota was correct."

"She was," Kirk said. He leaned back against the biobed as he had previously been doing and crossed his arms over his chest. "You never properly dealt with the loss of your planet and your mother because you're a stubborn asshole when you want to be, and it negatively impacted your mental health. So now you have to deal with it properly."

"Do you have any recommendations as to how I should 'deal with it?'" Spock asked.

"Well, in order for me to get closer to reversion," Kirk said thoughtfully. "I needed to tell those that I cared about what had happened to me, because I kept it a secret and telling people was the last thing I wanted to do. But your traumatic event isn't exactly secret. You'll probably have to reveal your feelings about what happened to the people you trust and care about most? That's just a guess, though. I can't be sure that that'll work."

"You believe that revealing my emotions is a highly distasteful option to me?"

"I don't believe, I know. I've been your friend for years, and even if you've forgotten, I haven't."

"That statement, coincidentally, is of the same topic as one of my questions," Spock said, raising his eyebrow.

"Ask away," Kirk said, gesturing for him to speak.

"How did we become friends?" Spock asked. "It seems a highly unlikely occurrence. The only people who I would possibly consider friends are Nyota and Christopher Pike. It is rather difficult for me to believe that I became friends with someone as impulsive, aggressive, academically dishonest, and promiscuous as you are."

There was a heartbeat of absolute silence. Then-

"Why, you-!" McCoy spluttered, posture tightening with rage. There was the McCoy that Spock had previously seen, Spock noted. Buried, but not absent.

"Spock!" Nyota said, sounding horrified.

Kirk said nothing, just ducked his head. His frame, tall and broad and undoubtedly powerful, seemed to curl in on itself. Spock was confused for a moment. This man, who had previously stared down Spock after being confronted about cheating on an important simulation and had given him sass instead of an apology, was not going to confront him? He had argued against a truth before, why would he not do so again?

"I cannot believe you, you goddamn green-blooded, pointy-eared, heartless-"

"Bones," Kirk said quietly, stopping Bones mid-rant.

It was too late, however, to stop hot anger from swelling in Spock. His frayed control left Spock highly vulnerable to his emotions, and he was unable to maintain a pretense of neutrality. He straightened his back, feeling his eyebrows furrow menacingly in anger.

"You stoop to name calling?" Spock asked, hearing the anger in his voice. "Are you so unintelligent that you cannot think of a single adequate response?"

"Spock!" Nyota said again, clearly trying to draw his attention away from McCoy, most likely in the hopes of calming him down.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I'm unintelligent? How many surgeries have _you_ performed with barely any supplies out in the field?"

Boasting, a small part of Spock's brain noted. A kind of bluffing and deflecting tactic when no decent response was able to be thought of.

"I highly doubt that you are able to perform any, either-"

_"Seventeen._ And _six_ of them were on _you_ , whose biology doesn't conform entirely to Vulcan _or_ human standards!"

"Spock, Leonard, both of you stop it!" Nyota snapped.

"If I remember correctly, I am your commanding officer. You would speak such to me?"

"Oh, hiding behind rank now, are we? Have you run out of 'logical' arguments?"

"Bones, Spock, stop," Kirk said quietly, somehow seeming to have withdrawn even more into himself.

McCoy was a peculiarly infuriating human being. How could someone so illogical ever achieve such a rank as prestigious as the one McCoy held? The anger he caused seemed to be festering, infecting every part of Spock. His hands began to tremble finely, threat tight with rage.

_You know this,_ something whispered, deep inside his mind. _You know this feeling. Calm yourself._

He brushed the voice aside.

"Lieutenant Commander McCoy, don't make me relieve you of duty for insubordination."

"You're currently a patient in _my_ sickbay, _Commander,_ you can't do jack squat to me."

"Leonard, Spock!" Nyota barked, slamming her hand down on the biobed surface. Spock did not acknowledge her, head beginning to spin.

"Step away from me, Doctor McCoy," Spock all but snarled.

Nyota and Kirk tensed. Kirk's head snapped up, vibrant eyes flying wide and far too bright against his pale face. Nyota glanced over at McCoy, gaze searching and worried. McCoy did not seem to notice Kirk or Nyota's reactions to Spock's words, and he simply sneered and stepped even closer as if daring Spock.

Spock's fist collided with the side of McCoy's head before the doctor could blink, and McCoy reeled backwards with a shocked cry of pain. Distantly, Spock noticed Kirk and Nyota's horrified faces as he swung again with his other fist, clipping McCoy's jaw and snapping his head backwards.

"Bones!" Kirk shouted, attempting to throw himself between McCoy and Spock.

Spock pushed him off to the side with a brutal jab from his elbow, and Kirk was caught by Nyota. McCoy was still almost uncomprehending, but shocked understanding finally illuminated his eyes. He tried to duck on Spock's next swing and wasn't quite fast enough, Spock's fist slamming into his nose. Spock relished in the crunch of cartilage under his fist and the warm wetness of blood on his knuckles.

"Spock!" Nyota screamed.

The next time Spock pulled his fist back to attack McCoy, Kirk jumped between them again. His second attempt was more successful, Kirk jumping forward as Nyota grabbed the wounded McCoy by his arm and dragged him away from Spock. When Spock tried to go after McCoy, Kirk pivoted so that he stood between McCoy and Spock. There were biobeds on the left and right, creating a kind of cage.

Other medical staff was finally appearing to address the chaos, and one of them began to help assist with McCoy's nose. Spock growled and tried to move forward, but Kirk remained in his path. He would have to go through Kirk to get to McCoy.

"Spock," Kirk said gently. "Please, listen to me."

Spock didn't want to listen to words. He wanted to feel skin under his fists and blood drip from his knuckles, he wanted to make someone _suffer-_

Kirk barely managed to avoid Spock's next swing, recoiling. Spock wasn't anticipating Kirk to swing his leg out and hit Spock's knee, but his kick was not enough to make Spock lose his balance. Kirk's eyes widened a little bit in fear when Spock snarled and kicked his own leg out. Kirk managed to avoid Spock's kick by jumping back a bit.

"I've got sedatives, but I can't get to Mr. Spock!" one nurse cried.

"We'll have to draw him out from between the biobeds!" Nyota said.

"Preberably bebore he kills Jim!" McCoy snapped.

Spock saw Kirk's focus break for a split second when McCoy spoke, and dove. Kirk wasn't fast enough to avoid Spock, however he managed to spin them so Spock was underneath him when they landed. He could feel Kirk's hands on his shoulder, trying to hold him down long enough for a nurse to get to him, and bared his teeth.

When he flipped their positions, Kirk's strength no match for his Vulcan strength, he managed to knock the hypospray out of the approaching nurse's hands and send it skittering across the room. Kirk's eyes were wide with terror as he looked up at Spock, pinned down completely by a Vulcan's weight on top of him, and Spock didn't care.

Spock wanted to see Kirk bloody. He wanted to see Kirk broken and swollen, eyes sliding shut as he fell unconscious. He wanted to hear Kirk yell as Spock's firsts rained down upon him, he wanted to see Kirk _dead_.

"Spock!" Nyota was pleading, knelt down by their heads. "Spock, stop, please!"

Spock punched Kirk hard across the face, his head snapping to the side. Kirk grunted and righted his face to look Spock in the eyes, struggling uselessly. He punched Kirk again, and again, and again, until Kirk's head was lolling, face slack and bloody as he fought to stay conscious. Spock could only see crescents of intoxicating blue as Kirk's eyes began to slide shut. Nyota screamed the whole time, trying futilely to draw him back from the murderous edge with words.

Before Spock could deliver the blow that would surely render Kirk unconscious, there was a prick in his neck and the world turned black. __

* * *

Jim lost consciousness moments after Spock collapsed on top of him, having been hypoed by Nurse M'Ret.

When he came to, he was in a biobed. His face had been cleaned up and healed to a degree, but that didn't stop his body from protesting movement. The sickbay seemed quiet, no nurses or doctors bustling about, and so Jim cautiously sat up and looked around. On the biobed to his right was Spock, looking entirely peaceful and not like he'd tried to murder both Bones and Jim earlier.

Jim's heart gave a sharp pang at the memory. Perhaps his refusal to confront Spock on the issue had caused the whole thing. After all, if he had stood up for himself, Bones wouldn't have stood up for him. And if Bones hadn't stood up for him, then Bones and Spock never would've argued so bad, and Spock never would've snapped.

_Kaiidth_ , as Spock would say. _What is, is._

"Captain?" Nurse Chapel asked, appearing out of thin air like she always seemed to do.

Jim jumped and turned to her. She held a PADD in one hand, several hyposprays in the other. Jim gave them a wary look. Chapel was almost as bad as Bones with the hyposprays. Speaking of...

"Where is Bones?" Jim asked.

"In the brig," Chapel said, as if Bones being in the brig was no big deal.

"The brig?" Jim said incredulously.

"Instead of putting a mark on his record for goading an emotionally compromised superior officer into attacking him, Acting Captain Sulu decided to put him in the brig for a day," Chapel explained.

"Stars," Jim said, rubbing a hand over his face. "Was there ever this much complication when I was reverted?"

"Well, nobody ever ended up in sickbay because of you," Chapel said. "In fact, your reversion got Commander Spock and Doctor McCoy to get along better than they ever have for longer than they ever have. So honestly? I think Commander Spock's reversion is going to be a hell of a lot worse than yours."

"Yeah," Jim sighed. "I think so too."

Before Chapel could respond, the doors to sickbay opened and Nyota came walking in. Her posture was tense, but she relaxed when she saw that Jim was awake. Jim gave her a small smile, and she returned it as she approached his biobed. Chapel disappeared of to some corner of sickbay, and Nyota moved to sit on the bottom of the biobed.

"Hey, Jim," she said. "How do you feel?"

Jim looked over at Spock, looking so silent and strong but holding so much grief and anger inside, and felt his heart break a little bit. He looked back at Nyota and gave her a sad smile.

"A little rough," he said.

"We all seem to be doing a little rough today." Nyota rubbed her temples. "We're on our way to New Vulcan, estimated arrival in five days."

"Good, good," Jim said. "Who did Sulu name as first officer while I've been out?"

"Me," Nyota said. "We both just got off shift, Ensign Michelson has the bridge."

"Juli will take care of her for us," Jim said. "Did you come to see Spock or me?"

"You, actually," Nyota said. "Spock was just sedated. You're the one that got beat up by him. Again."

"I didn't goad him into it this time," Jim protested. "Don't give me that tone. It was Bones who goaded him."

"Speaking of Leonard," Nyota said, mood shifting to one less pleasant. "Did you hear what happened?"

"That he's been stuck in the brig? Yeah, I heard. Good man, Sulu, trying to keep a mark of of Bones' record."

"He'll make a good captain someday," Nyota said in agreement.

"I'll miss him like hell when he inevitably leaves for bigger and better things than the helm of the _Enterprise."_

"Yeah, me too."

Nyota smiled at Jim and then hopped off of the biobed, ponytail bouncing when she hit the floor. As if Nyota's shoes hitting the floor was a cue, Chapel reappeared.

"Captain," Chapel said.

"Oh, stars," Jim muttered, having seen the plethora of hyposprays she carried.

"Have fun," Nyota said cheekily, and departed.

"She's smart," Chapel commented. "If she's stayed I would've given her one, too. She's overdue for a checkup after she caught that virus on Eltig III a few weeks ago."

"Too?" Jim asked, trying to subtly shift away from Chapel and the hyposprays.

"Yes, too."

"I can't possibly need all of those hyposprays," Jim said.

"Maybe, maybe not," Chapel said, picking up the first one and jabbing it into the side of Jim's neck.

"Ow! Geez, you and Bones are just as bad as each other when it comes to hyposprays."

"Thank you," she said. "Doctor McCoy is an excellent doctor."

"But he's a massive pain in the ass when delivering hyposprays," Jim muttered, rubbing his neck.

No sooner had he removed his hand then Chapel jabbed him again. Jim resigned himself to the onslaught of hyposprays and sighed heavily.

"All done," Chapel said, what seemed like an eternity later.

"My neck hurts, now," Jim complained.

"I can give you another hypospray for that," Chapel said, raising her eyebrows.

"No, I'm good," Jim said quickly.

"Mhmm."

"Am I allowed to leave?" Jim asked. The comfort of his own quarters was all he wanted, far away from Chapel and her hyposprays.

"You're cleared," Chapel said. "I don't want you back here waiting for Spock to wake up, and I don't want you doing work until tomorrow morning."

"Fine," Jim said, swinging his legs off of the bed.

They had been considerate enough to leave him in his uniform, and so all Jim had to do was put his shoes back on. Chapel was gone when he stood back up- honestly, the woman was like a ghost- and Jim stood for a moment, looking at Spock.

There was no sign of the rage that had previously colored his face. Jim swallowed hard at the memory of the event that had taken place only hours before. He had been so scared to hurt Spock until he'd realized that Spock wanted to hurt him. Too late, he'd realized that Spock was on the offensive with nothing holding him back, and that Jim's odds of winning were very slim.

At first he'd been worried for Bones. Then he'd been worried for Spock. Jim knew that when Spock woke, he'd feel absolutely awful about losing control and attacking the two of them. It wasn't until Spock had him pinned to the floor that Jim had become truly afraid. He saw nothing familiar in Spock's eyes, only rage. His friend was not in there. Jim was essentially at the hands of a pre-Surakian Vulcan, no respect or moral codes preventing Spock from beating him to a pulp. Jim had no way of beating Spock, and he had been totally at Spock's mercy, what little he had.

Chapel's words about not wanting him waiting for Spock to wake up echoed in Jim's ears. He sighed heavily and left, but glanced over at Spock one last time before departing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I'm going to be dying inside for the next week because finals, but I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter!


	9. Chapter 9

Perhaps three hours after Jim returned to his quarters, Chapel commed him to tell him that Spock was being released.

Jim had spent the three hours doing paperwork in the chair he would play chess against Spock in, legs tossed over the side and a cup of decaf coffee on the table. Sure, he had promised Chapel that he wouldn't do paperwork, but he was too wound up to sleep, bored as hell, and the no paperwork rule didn't even make sense. He was in his pajamas, making the work even easier due to his high comfort level. There was an impressive backlog of paperwork for Jim to do, even a month after his reversion, and Jim managed to get through what he considered a decent portion of what remained in those three hours.

Faint sounds coming from Spock's quarters alerted Jim to the fact that Spock had made it back to his room. For a moment, Jim thought he might go visit Spock and ask him if he had any other questions, if just to get them over with. Jim dismissed the thought. Spock had a lot to get used to, Jim couldn't just barge into his quarters.

Not even five minutes later, there was a buzz at Jim's door as someone requested entry. Jim stood, setting his PADD next to his coffee and approached the door.

"Enter," he called, too late becoming aware of just how un-captainly he looked in his sweatpants and plain white t-shirt.

Naturally, it was Spock who stepped into the room. Jim tensed slightly, trying to brace himself for any harsh words that Spock may see fit to speak.

"I..." Spock began.

Spock looked terribly lost, and a bit like a child. His spine was not tall, but slouched a bit, and his face was not entirely impassive. Jim tipped his head, trying to keep his face open. In doing so, he noticed a small cordical monitor placed behind Spock's ear.

"Spock?"

"I extend my sincerest apologies for my actions," Spock finally said, each word sounding as if it was being dragged from him. "They were inexcusable, and I would understand entirely if you saw fit to dismiss me-"

"Dismiss you?" Jim asked. "Why would I do that? Spock, you don't remember, but you tried to kill me shortly after your memory ends. I didn't kick you off the ship then, why would I do it now? Besides, you didn't decide to attack me-" Spock flinched ever so slightly at those words. "-for no reason. Bones goaded you into it."

"My first attack was during extenuating circumstances."

"Sure. Yet, under circumstances that weren't extenuating in any way, I still picked you to be my first officer. Spock, I don't blame you or hate you for what you did, okay? So don't blame yourself."

Spock stared at him silently for a moment before his eyebrows furrowed the tiniest bit in confusion.

"You are extremely confusing," Spock murmured. "You were so rude and abrasive, and yet you speak of us being friends. You have the gall to be sarcastic and arrogant when being brought up on academic charges, yet you do not say a word when I call you promiscuous and impulsive."

"It's been several years, Spock," Jim said softly. "People change. I've changed. I wouldn't still be captain if I hadn't."

The two of them stood in silence for some moments. Jim felt awfully underdressed, and smoothed his sweaty palms down the side of his sweatpants. Spock looked away for a moment, and then back at Jim.

"I have more questions, if you will answer them," Spock finally said, breaking the silence.

"Okay," Jim said, nodding. "Uh, take a seat."

He gestured to the chair Spock usually sat in during their chess games. Spock slowly approached the chair, and then sat down in it as if he were afraid it would attack him. Jim tried not to feel too offended, and settled back into his own seat.

"You have acquired many trinkets over your years as captain," Spock observed, looking around.

He was incredibly tense in his seat, and Jim recognized that Spock was trying to engage conversation. Conversation would make their encounter less awkward, and Jim was on board with anything that would make the atmosphere of the room less tense.

"Yeah," Jim said. "I'm incredibly popular with leaders of planets, it seems. That one over there, it's from the Alpii-En Orrin, or the equivalent to their main priest and president all in one. That one is from a member of the Prrifon oligarchy. And that one is from a Vartok child, she gave it to me during their season change festival. That one's probably my favorite."

"An intriguing collection."

"And one that took a long time to collect."

The conversation fell flat again. Spock shifted slightly in his seat.

"You play chess?" Spock asked, looking at the set on the table between them.

Their game was still half finished, and Jim remembered how Spock's eyes had glittered as he made a move that had Jim scrambling to save his king. In the last days before Spock had collapsed, chess had been one of the only things that had seemed to make Spock better.

"I do," Jim said. "And so do you."

"This is our game?"

"Yeah."

Spock blinked down at the board between them, and Jim resisted the urge to squirm hide the board from sight. The urge made no sense. It was a chess board, nothing more. He shouldn't have felt the need to hide it from anyone, much less _Spock_.

_It's not Spock,_ he told himself _. Not the one you play this with, not the one you're in love with._

"Fascinating." Spock looked up from the board to stare directly into his eyes, and Jim resisted the urge to squirm once more.

"You said you have questions?" Jim said.

"I do. You have been a previous recipient of this 'amnesia.' Therefore, you are the only person that I can speak to who is suited to describe what the gift is. I assume that we had a conversation with the ha'karr concerning the details of the gift. Your amnesia should not have affected me, and yet it seems it did. How?"

"Ah," Jim said. He had been hoping that Spock wouldn't ask that question again. "Okay. We were hoping that if the ha'karr gave you the same gift she gave me, it would help you. It turned out that the amnesia was exactly what was needed to fix the situation. Apparently we're... we're what the ha'karr called a Match? She talked about us being super compatible or something. So because we're a Match, when my soul was fixed and yours wasn't, it kinda threw your soul into all sorts of chaos. So in order to help you, your soul needed to be 'fixed' too."

"What were her words verbatim?" Spock asked. He sounded very serious, suddenly, and a little bit... scared? Jim felt alarm spark in his chest.

"She said, 'You are both compatible in every way. Mind, body, and soul.' Apparently Matches are super rare, and there hasn't been one in hundreds of years. She didn't even think a human could be a part of a Match, so she didn't check before giving me my gift."

Spock seemed frozen in his seat, and alarm bells began to ring in Jim's head. He leaned forward a bit, slowly, and reached out to lay his fingertips lightly on Spock's arm.

"Spock?"

When his fingers came into contact with Spock's sleeve, Spock jumped. His eyes, which had previously been focused on a corner of the table, locked on to Jim's. They were dark and confused and worried, almost.

"Spock?" Jim asked again, voice gentle. He'd never seen Spock look like that, and it scared him. "Are you okay?"

"I must meditate," Spock said abruptly, standing up. "I will ask any further questions tomorrow."

"Spock?" Jim repeated, standing as well. "Seriously, are you okay? Is there anything I ca-"

"I must meditate," Spock all but snapped, tone sharp and severe but betrayed by his trembling body. "It is an intensely private thing. You may not 'help' in any way, and attempted assistance would only impact me negatively."

With that, Spock spun on his heels and exited the room. Jim was left standing by the table, feeling confused, worried, hurt, and entirely overwhelmed all at once. The heat of tears began to build behind his eyes, and he squeezed them shut to keep the tears away. He eventually sat down with a heavy sigh, the coffee making his mouth taste bitter.

What had he done wrong? Touching Spock had clearly been a mistake, but he couldn't pinpoint what he'd said to make Spock react so severely. Jim groaned and dropped his head into his hands. If what he was going through as anything like what Spock had gone through when he was reverted, Jim thought everyone who'd come into contact with him deserved a box of chocolates. Especially Bones, Spock, and Hannah.

For a moment Jim was tempted to call Bones to his quarters until he remembered that Bones was in the brig, and would be until afternoon the next day. Jim groaned again. His go-to guy was no longer able to be gone to, and of course he was inaccesible when Jim really needed him.

Who else could he contact?

_Nyota_ , his mind supplied, and before he realized just what he was doing he had his communicator raised.

"Jim?" Nyota asked.

"Hey, Nyota," Jim said somewhat awkwardly.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine."

Nyota's voice took on a mildly teasing quality when she replied with, "Fine has variable definitions."

"Yeah," Jim sighed. "It does."

"Honestly, Jim, are you okay?"

Jim stared down at his feet for a moment, trying to figure out how to respond. He could lie and tell Nyota that he really was fine, and bullshit an excuse. Not that he was likely to be able to bluff Nyota, but it was still an option. He could also tell her the truth, a prospect that was new to him but not entirely scary.

"Not really," Jim finally responded.

"Do you want me to come over?" She asked.

"If you're not doing anything else, that would be great."

"Of course," Nyota said. "I'll be right over."

It was no more than two minutes before his door chimed, and Jim jerked, having zoned out. He stood, then looked down at his clothes and sighed, but called out, "Enter."

"Hey, Jim," Nyota said.

Nyota looked far more composed than Jim, in leggings and a soft looking orange sweater. Her hair was loose around her face, and she placed a gentle hand on his shoulder when she approached him. He gave her a tired smile, and she displayed an identical one in return.

"Lets go sit on the couch," Nyota suggested.

They settled down next to each other, Jim with one leg tucked under him and Nyota sitting criss-cross, both facing each other. Jim slumped against the back of the couch, and if Nyota was the type to sag or slump against anything, Jim knew she'd be mirroring his position. Nyota reached out a hand and settled it on his knee.

"You're clearly not doing too well," Nyota said gently. "What's going on? Is it Spock?"

"Yeah," Jim admitted. "Yeah, it's mostly Spock."

"His transition has been rough for me, too," Nyota said. "But it's definitely worse for you, I have to admit. I never lost his affection, but you did."

It was comforting, in a way, to know that Nyota was having a hard time, too. It made him feel less like he was overreacting, and gave him a sense of companionship. Sure, he could talk to Bones, but surely Bones wouldn't understand like Nyota.

"Yeah, I did," Jim murmured. "That's- that's not entirely my issue, though. You see, even after he tried to kill me, he came up to apologize for his actions. We got to talking, because he had more questions, and when I told him about something that the ha'karr had said, he kind of freaked out and left."

Nyota tipped her head, dark hair spilling over her shoulder. Jim was reminded of a time during his reversion, when he'd confessed to Nyota and she'd pulled him into a hug. For a moment, his chest ached with the urge to ask for a hug, but he refrained from doing so.

"What did you tell him?"

"I told him how the ha'karr had explained my amnesia triggering Spock's issues," Jim said, and shrugged as best he could. "And then he- he kinda spaced out, and when I touched his sleeve to get his attention he just told me that he needed to meditate and left."

"What did you say?" Nyota asked. "Verbatim, please. I'd like to think at least one of us will be able to figure what freaked him out."

"I said that she had said, 'You are both compatible in every way. Mind, body, and soul.' Then I said, 'Apparently Matches are super rare, and their hasn't been one in hundreds of years. She didn't even think a human could be a part of a Match, so she didn't check before giving me my gift.'"

When he met Nyota's eyes, feeling oddly naked revealing that information to her, they were wide. Her mouth was open just slightly, and Jim watched as her face shifted from shock to a kind of deep, sympathetic sadness. Jim sighed.

"What did I do?"

"You... You didn't do anything. Spock freaked out because of what _he_ did, and what your words made him realize."

"Well then what did he realize?" Jim asked, frustrated. He ran a hand through his hair and gave Nyota an imploring look.

"I can't say," Nyota said quietly. She seemed upset. "It's not- I shouldn't even know, it's definitely not my secret to tell. If you want to know so badly, then you might want to ask Spock, if he'll tell you."

Jim groaned and tipped his head back.

"Am I going to be kept in the dark on things this entire time?" He asked his ceiling.

"That's another question for Spock," Nyota said. "Now, I've got to get back to my ro-"

Jim's comm beeped, and when he flipped it open, Christine Chapel's voice came through. She sounded calm and collected, as always, but her words sent a chill down Jim's spine.

"Captain, Spock's cordial monitor is recording distressing readings. I can't interfere because they aren't _quite_ medically distressing enough to warrant dragging him back to sickbay, but you should check up on him, now."

Jim looked up and met Nyota's eyes, which mirrored the same fear that Jim felt. He uttered a curt, 'Thank you, Christine,' flipped the comm shut, and leapt off of the couch.


	10. Chapter 10

_Spock's mind is a raging sea, towering waves roaring up to crash down upon the desert, whose defenses are weakened by the thousands of trees that have been uprooted. The desert tries to fight back, a sandstorm attempting to force the ocean out. It is a nearly futile attempt, the water a thundering, powerful, inescapable force._

_In the center, buffeted by both salty water and gritty sand, stands Spock. He wears no Vulcan robes, and no traditionally human clothing, either. It is his Starfleet blacks that he wears when he looks down at himself. He cannot stay here, on the border of two wildly contrasting halves, for much longer._

_Choose, the sand states._

_Choose! the water demands._

_With the water lies chaos, disorder, danger. With the sand lies order, reason, truth, logic, pain. The truth is what he had come to find, his field of bonds what he'd come to search. Spock turns towards the sand, and the water howls at his back, attempting to pull him back with its wet, greedy fingers. The sand embraces him, lets him pass in a small, temporary respite from the sandstorm._

_He walks._

_Eventually, he emerges from the storm to find the empty land where trees, bonds, once stood. This part of his mind has most likely been blocked off, to spare himself the pain he now experiences. It is breathtaking, sharp enough to bring Spock to his knees. Tears build up in his eyes, and he squeezes his eyes shut until he is in no danger of shedding tears, gripping great handfuls of the scarlet sand. When he is able to open his eyes, sun glaring down harshly upon him but heating him nicely, he looks up at the wasteland._

_In the front of the former field of life, where there once stood six trees, there stands five, two of them new. Three are not particularly healthy. One belongs to his father, one to Michael, and the last to T'Pau. One of the newer, healthier trees belongs to Nyota, and it appears fragile but Spock knows that it is strong. The second new tree is short and very new, and Spock is unsure of who it belongs to. Sybok's tree is withered, simply deprived of life. The trees that previously belonged to T'Pring, and his mother have been harshly uprooted, leaving gaping holes that hurt to look at. Behind those trees lies small, brambly bushes. These represent his bonds to each other Vulcan alive, all very faint and hardly noticeable. The majority of them have been uprooted, as well._

_But, oh, in the center of it all..._

_In the center of everything, there stands a massive, thriving tree, larger than any tree Spock has ever seen. It is a sequoia, like the ones from his mother's home on Earth. This one, however, is at least twice the size of any sequoia that Spock has ever seen. It exudes life, despite the harsh desert condition, needles vibrant. It calls to Spock, and he stands on shaky legs to approach it._

_His trek is made as if in a trance, and when he is within arm's reach of the tree, it seems to tremble. Ever so lightly, Spock sets his hand on the trunk of the tree, which nearly vibrates with life and energy, and is hit by a wave of_ worry comfort confusion Nyota love Spock frustration-

_Spock pulls his hand back with a gasp, staggering backwards._

T'hy'la

_No._

_A low rumbling starts behind him, like the engines of the ship but not quite right. It sounds like something massive is breaking, like his world is falling apart again but with less rock and sand and more liquid._

_It cannot be, Spock does not know if he wishes it to be or to never have been. He does not like Kirk, who is confusing and arrogant and promiscuous and somehow seems to be none of those things that he is. Beyond all logic, Kirk is supposed to be his perfect match-_

Apparently we're... we're what the ha'karr called a Match?

You are both compatible in every way. Mind, body, and soul.

_-but even if he did want to claim him, even if Spock was in love with Kirk, he could not. He has placed his hands upon his t'hy'la with the intention to harm, and the old laws declare that therefore, his claim is forfeit._

_A jolt of terror radiates from the tree, the t'hy'la bond, able to be sensed despite Spock's lack of contact with the bond. Spock creeps closer, concerned. He knows he has no right to invade Kirk's mind such, but surely that terror is unnatural and requires assistance. He reaches out his hand and Kirk feels_ fear fear Spock fear Nyota-help Spock concern worry affection love fear want-Bones want-Spock

_"Spock!" the tree cries._

_It comes from the bond but it surrounds him, too, coming from all sides. Spock turns and sees the water, humanity, the wave nearly as tall as Kirk's tree. The tip of it curves, breaking white, and Spock can do nothing but stand still as it begins to crash down upon the desert garden, upon Spock._

_"Spock!" Nyota's tree says, branches trembling._

_The wave absorbs it and Spock gasps at the strangely horrifying sight, unable to regain his composure. The great blue wall approaches faster and faster, closing in from all directions until it's just him and the t'hy'la bond. The water slams into him and then it's not even that, Spock's feet knocked out from under him and his sense of directions lost as the water sweeps him away at its own will, heedless of Spock's desires._

* * *

"Spock!" a man's voice called.

Spock was jerked from his meditation, gasping for air, only to find himself on his side on the floor in his quarters. Kirk knelt in front of him, eyes wide and dark with worry. He had one hand under Spock's head, as if to protect him from the hard floor, and another on his shoulder. An electric sort of feeling ran through Spock at the touch, and Jim's thoughts were broadcasted loud and clear through the contact, able to be read due to Spock's failed meditation and shields.

_This can't be normal for meditation._

_What happened?_

_What's wrong?_

_How do I fix it?_

_I want him better._

_Oh stars Nyota should be doing this he doesn't hate her why am I even he-_

Spock jerked away and sat up, pushing himself away from Kirk on trembling arms. He could feel that his eyes were too wide, face too emotional. Wetness covered his cheeks, salty like the wave that had smothered him, and he noticed that his breath was coming too fast.

The Vulcan part of him screamed at Spock to regain his control, but all Spock could imagine was the wave of his humanity crashing down over the desert, smothering logic. His father's half could yell all it would like, but humanity was in control.

"Get away from me," Spock said, voice shaking. "You- You make no sense. I do not know what to do about you, and I cannot deal with you when all you do is confuse me even more."

Kirk staggered to his feet, face waxy and pale. His eyes shone with a dozen emotions, the most prominent of which was hurt. Spock felt a burst of sick satisfaction, and thought, _hurt as I hurt, hurt as close as you can._ He was promptly horrified with himself, and shied away even more from Kirk.

"Jim-" Nyota began, softly.

She stood behind Kirk, and reached out to place a hand on his shoulder. Kirk sidestepped out from under her hand, face no longer blank from shock but tight with emotional pain. Nyota pursed her lips and dropped her hand, dark distressed eyes flicking between Spock and Kirk.

"No," Kirk said, voice strained. "No, he's right. I should- I shouldn't be here. I'll..." He took a step or two backwards, shoulders hunched and eyes looking anywhere but at Spock or Nyota. "I'll be in my quarters."

Kirk disappeared through the bathroom.

"Spock," Nyota said, and the tone she used, as if she were approaching a wounded animal, caused Spock to bristle. "Is it alright if I come near you?"

Spock nodded. As she approached, he tried to make himself look less like a mess, arranging himself into the lotus position despite his full-body trembling. Nyota settled down across from him in an identical position, and looked at him with sad eyes. Spock looked away, curling in on himself a little bit as he focused his gaze on Nyota's knee.

"Do you want to talk about what managed to compromise you so badly?"

"I do not know," Spock whispered.

"I think it might be a good idea," Nyota said. "Meditation clearly didn't help, and you're half human too. Talking works for humans, most of the time. Besides, talking about his issues was what helped Jim revert."

"Perhaps... Perhaps I will speak of it when I am more emotionally controlled. I find myself remarkably emotionally unbalanced. It is quite concerning."

"Okay," Nyota said. "I can wait. Forcing you to talk won't do any good."

"I would meditate to rebalance myself," Spock began slowly. "However, I do not believe that meditation is a good idea. Not after what has just occurred." He looked back up at Nyota to find her looking directly at him, eyes holding no scorn for his display of emotion. "I find your voice soothing. Would you, perhaps, tell me about Captain Kirk?"

"What about Jim?" Nyota asked.

"I do not know. Whatever you deem fit. I would most appreciate hearing a different perspective of Kirk. He is a confusing being."

"Yeah," Nyota said, and smiled slightly. "Yeah, he really is, isn't he?"

* * *

Jim sat down hard on the couch, nausea twisting his stomach, and put his head into his shaking hands. His chest hurt as if Spock had physically struck him instead of only utilizing words, and his head spun.

Of course Spock had wanted him gone.

He had forgotten, for a moment, that the Spock not thirty feet from him despised him. It was not his loyal first officer whose head he had cradled, whose eyes had focused on his before anything else. He had cradled the man who had stranded him on a frozen planet and tried to kill him twice.

What Jim wanted more than anything was a friend, but his options were rather limited. Spock was... well, not entirely Spock. Nyota was with Spock, and Bones was in the brig. He wouldn't be able to hang out with Sulu right then without being pissed at him, since he was the one who threw Bones in the brig. Chekov would probably be with Scotty, and Scotty would only propose drinking themselves stupid, which Jim didn't want to do. That left few options left. He didn't know Hannah well enough to feel comfortable being quite so fragile around her. Juli and Kevin were both working, so he couldn't ask for their help.

What was he supposed to do?

He could try to go to the gym and work off his emotions, but that might result in a breakdown in the middle of the gym, which was something he wanted to avoid. He could... He didn't really know what else he could do.

Jim sighed and sat up, scrubbing a hand over his face. His eyes landed on the cup of coffee left abandoned on the chess table and then jumped to his PADD, sitting perhaps five feet away on his desk. He had plenty of work that he could occupy himself with, and he had a replicator in his quarters that could give him as much coffee as he wanted.

Despite his body's protests and cries for sleep, Jim knew that his restless mind wouldn't allow sleep to come. He'd only end up laying in bed with a heavy heart and Spock's words replaying over and over on his head. So he recycled his cold coffee, replicated a new one, and sat down at his desk to work.

* * *

Nyota didn't quite know how to answer Spock's question, so she just talked. She rambled about her entire history with Jim, from their first meeting to the previous day. Nyota made sure to focus on the main events that stuck out to her that had made her realize that Jim wasn't a bad guy after all. She brushed over Nero as quickly as she could, a difficult feat considering how impactful that event had been on her perception of him.

She tried to help Spock understand that the Kirk that he had seen was an act, a shield made by a traumatized boy. As best as she could, she tried to convince Spock that the Jim who had tried to comfort him was not the Jim that he knew. She rambled about all of the little things he did that had showed anyone who cared that he was a genuinely good person.

There was the time when he had showed up at her door one day just after a particularly difficult shift with a tray heavy with drinks in hand. She'd stared in wonder as he plucked a cup from the many he had precariously balanced and held it out to her with a grin. He disappeared down the hall before Nyota could ask what the hell he was doing. The drink had turned out to be her favorite, a kind of spiced tea. She had never told him her favorite drinks, and he never told her how he knew.

Once, when in spaceport, a crew member's child had come aboard. The young girl of perhaps seven had been fascinated by everything, and Jim made sure to give her the grand tour of the ship himself. She had even been allowed to sit in Jim's precious captain's chair, and Nyota recalled the peculiar look on his face as Jim interacted with the child. It had been a look she'd never seen before, a mishmash of sadness, joy, nostalgia, and adoration. She remembered thinking that he'd make a good father.

After Nero, upon returning to Starfleet and an Academy lacking many teachers so close to finals, Jim had taken leadership again. He'd begun to teach several classes, and others followed suit to allow the majority of cadets to finish their school year.

When hounded by reporters, asked how he had pulled off some wild feat, he would always smile and shake his head. He'd then bring up Spock, and Nyota, and Sulu, and everyone else. The first time it had happened, just after Nero, Nyota had been shocked. Surely, even if she had slightly misjudged his character, he wouldn't shy away from praise? But he did. He never once accepted the praise, always mentioning the crew.

Spock sat quietly and listened, not meeting her eyes. It had been over an hour since she had begun to talk, and Spock seemed much calmer now but no less confused about Jim. She thought for a moment about how young he looked, and then remembered that he _was_ young.

He wasn't as young as James, but he was young all the same. The Spock who sat in front of her was ashamed of his human ancestry, scared of his hybrid nature. He would refuse his emotionality, most likely the key to his reversion. Nyota had a sinking feeling that Spock's reversion would be more difficult than Jim's had been.

"Why would Kirk portray a false persona?" Spock eventually asked.

"He was scared," Nyota said. "His life wasn't easy, despite his father's fame. Then there was... well. His amnesia incident, the most traumatic time in his life. He developed major trust issues, on top of other issues. Besides," Nyota let her lips twitch into a sort of a smile. "He would use people underestimating him like a weapon until everyone realized just how brilliant he was."

"You claim that everything I witnessed of him was a ruse?" Spock asked.

"Well, not _all_ of it. He's definitely matured over time. But he was never as bad as you seem to think he is. If I can't convince you with this conversation, you'll just have to spend more time with him without being needlessly rude. I've given you my best ci-"

Nyota stopped short, a brilliant idea suddenly occurring to her. A short burst of shame followed it, because she had completely overlooked an obvious way to show Spock that Jim was a good person. She wasn't even aware of the grin on her face until Spock gave a hesitant, "Nyota?"

"I've got a brilliant idea," Nyota said. "May I see your PADD?"

Spock handed her his PADD, and Nyota explained her idea as she tried to set it up.

"When Jim had amnesia," she said, "he had absolutely awful self-esteem. So to convince him that he really did turn out to be a good person and good captain, despite everything, I compiled a series of anecdotes- citations, I called them, which is what I was about to say to you and what gave me this idea- from every member of the crew. Everyone gave at least one citation, others more than one, but they helped improve James' self esteem. Perhaps they'll serve a similar purpose for you, and help you realize that he's not bad at all."

"I gave one of these citations?" Spock asked. He sounded surprised.

"You gave more than one," Nyota said, finally pulling up the collection. She handed the PADD back to Spock. "Here you are. I should go, I need to sleep, but please take the time to read this. I really do think that it'll help you see who Jim really is."

"I have been taken off duty tomorrow. It will have been read by the time you complete your shift."

"Excellent," Nyota said, unfolding her legs from underneath her and standing. "Could I come by tomorrow and have another chat with you about Jim?"

Spock nodded his approval.

"Your presence is always welcome, Nyota."

"Goodnight, Spock," Nyota said. She smiled softly.

"Goodnight, Nyota."

Nyota turned and left. In the hallway, she paused for a moment and contemplated checking up on Jim. She then dismissed the thought and turned away. Surely Jim was asleep by know, and if he wasn't, her presence would probably be unwelcome.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Second semester has just started, and it's been incredibly stressful so far, but I'm hanging in there. Here's the next chapter for you all, and the next one should be up in nine or so days!


	11. Chapter 11

Jim clearly wasn't as good at faking being alright as he thought he was, because the moment he stepped foot on the bridge the next morning, Sulu looked at him with a concerned face.

"Captain," he said. "Are you alright?"

"As good as I can be," Jim replied, and took his seat.

He wasn't going to deny it and say that he was peachy keen, but he couldn't quite bring himself to tell them everything. Nyota would be his closest confidante during Spock's reversion, that was for sure.

"Ees Meester Spock okay?" Chekov asked, pivoting in his chair.

"Spock is just fine," Nyota said.

Jim turned to look at her. When they made eye contact, she nodded just slightly, and Jim understood. After Jim had left, she had managed to calm Spock down at the least. A surge of bitterness welled up in Jim's chest but he quickly crushed it, appalled at himself. It didn't matter who helped Spock, that Sarek had told _Jim_ to watch out for Spock, all that mattered was that Spock was okay.

"That's good," Sulu said. "Although he probably feels guilty as hell, at least he's okay."

Irritation was building in Jim, itching under his skin. He tried to put it out of mind, feeling ashamed. The bridge crew was like family, and they all cared about Spock. Jim couldn't help feeling almost a sense of entitlement to the relief that the bridge crew was expressing. He knew Spock better than anyone, except perhaps Nyota. They hadn't been in sickbay when Spock lost control, hadn't been kicked out of his quarters, hadn't spent the night mourning the temporary loss of a friendship that they hadn't previously realized was a part of their foundation.

Jim took a deep breath and flexed his fingers. His shift was doubtlessly going to be a long one.

The hours dragged on, each like their own infinity. Jim found himself glancing over his shoulder far too often, only to be surprised and disappointed when it wasn't Spock at the science station. By the time Beta shift replacements came trickling in, Jim was about ready to burst out of his skin with boredom and irritation. The bridge crew had almost always been well attuned to Jim's moods, and their reaction to his tenseness had hardly helped the time pass. The entire bridge seemed mildly skittish and tense.

"How are you doing?" Nyota asked him when they found themselves alone in the turbolift. "With what happened last night, I mean. You looked pretty upset."

"Fine," Jim said evasively. If Nyota was able to tell that his reply was bull, she didn't comment.

"I'm sorry for not being able to help you out. I couldn't quite trust Spock to calm down effectively on his own."

"I understand," Jim said as the doors slid open. "He needed help more than me."

"I do think a solution of mine will really help with his attitude towards you."

Jim gave her a skeptical look as the two of them began to walk down the corridor.

"What solution? He seems to hate me, Nyota. I'm not sure that's easily fixable, which will pose an issue because I know I'm one of the people he's going to have to confess to or whatever he has to do."

"He seemed to have the biggest issue comprehending that you're a genuinely good person, and that the facade you used to show everyone isn't the real you. So I gave him what I gave you when you had the same issue."

"The citations?" Jim asked, giving her a shocked look.

"The citations," Nyota affirmed. "He'll have finished by now, since he's off duty today, so I'm going to go talk to him now. Maybe his opinion has shifted. He might tell me what exactly had him freaked out last night, too."

"Well," Jim said when they reached Spock's door. "I'll leave you to it." He gave her a tight smile. "You're the senior Spock whisperer, after all."

"Dinner?" Nyota asked.

"Yeah," Jim said, and gave her a real smile this time. "Yeah, dinner sounds good."

"I'll see you in the mess at 1800, then."

* * *

Spock spent his day as promised, reading and trying to organize his mind. He managed to re-erect shields around his bonds and regain emotional control, so that he would at least be able to function passably if he was required to interact with others.

Kirk had hardly left his mind all day.

Spock was beginning to see how he could have accepted a position on this ship after Nero, under Kirk's captaincy, and how the two of them could possibly have become friends. He was a most fascinating being, unlike Spock in many ways.

Spock constantly found himself replaying the previous day, all the ways he'd been cruel to Kirk. He could not help but analyze Kirk's responses. Never once did Kirk get angry or yell. When Spock attacked him, he hardly even fought back offensively. He had merely grown pale at verbal onslaughts, retreating into himself, and when Spock had pinned him to the ground and was beating him to unconsciousness, he had only looked at Spock with sad, scared eyes.

Kirk could defend himself, this Spock knew. One did not acquire the rank of captain without that ability. But Kirk had hardly utilized defensive skills at all. Was it that he was unwilling to fight back against those who he cared about?

Did Spock fall into that category in such a way that Kirk would barely try to defend himself even when Spock was attempting to murder him?

Guilt, shame, and regret swept through Spock like a wildfire. _Kaiidth_ , he tried to tell himself, but it did not abate his emotions. He had tried to kill his t'hy'la not once, but twice. There was no possible way to return from that. Perhaps Kirk had forgiven Spock, but that did not clear Spock's conscience. He had committed an act punishable by death before Surak and treated equivalent to murder even now.

Had he known, before his reversion, that Kirk was t'hy'la? Or had he kept all of his bonds hidden behind shields, leaving himself unaware of his bond with Kirk? Had he loved Kirk, and suffered every day knowing that he could never claim him? Or had he loved Kirk but been unaware of his forfeited claim? Had he even loved Kirk as more than a friend?

The chiming of his door pulled Spock out of his own thoughts and he rose to his feet, tucking his hands behind his back. He was not entirely satisfied with his emotional controls, but he knew that it was only Nyota requesting entry.

"Enter," he called.

As predicted, it was Nyota who stepped through the door and gave Spock a smile. She took a seat on the couch, and Spock joined her.

"How are you feeling?"

"I am... adequate."

Nyota fixed Spock with a mildly disappointed look, and Spock amended his statement.

"I find myself conflicted, however that is entirely unsurprising.

"Have you read the citations?"

"I have," Spock said. "Regret is illogical, and yet I regret my actions and words towards Captain Kirk. I allowed my emotions to control me, and acted without all of the facts."

"We didn't expect you to be acting very friendly towards him," Nyota said. "I'm sure Jim understands."

"I have hurt him," Spock murmured. "He has been nothing but kind to me during my reversion and I have showed him little but cruelty in return."

"He understands, Spock," Nyota said. "Jim knows where your memory ends and he anticipated that you wouldn't be very friendly to him. He just overestimated his ability to deal with the lack of friendliness."

"I found the citations most fascinating," Spock said, desperate to change the subject. "Particularly those of the people who know him best, including my own."

"Yeah? What did you find fascinating?" Nyota asked, settling into a more comfortable position.

"He defended me to a planet leader obsessed with blood purity, heedless of any consequences. When we were attacked by a dangerous creature, he shoved me out of the way despite the fact that Vulcans are sturdier than humans. Doctor McCoy reported him rushing into a burning house to save an infant, and ensuring that a complete stranger was safe from a sexual predator. He assisted Ensign Chekov without any judgement when the Ensign suffered from a panic attack. In your anecdote, he stole food from a planet's leaders to share with starving children."

"He's a good person," Nyota said. "Do you see that now?"

"I believe I do," Spock said quietly.

"And do you... do you understand, perhaps, why Leonard defended Jim so violently, especially when Jim refused to defend himself?" Nyota seemed hesitant to voice her question.

"It is human nature to protect those who they feel close to," Spock said. "I understand Doctor McCoy's position. However, it is also human nature to defend oneself. Kirk did not do that."

"He doesn't defend himself against people he loves," Nyota said sadly, "No matter what they do or say."

"Illogical," Spock said.

"Maybe. But Jim's never been a very logical person."

"Indeed, he does not seem to be."

The two of them fell into a companionable silence for nearly a minute. Eventually, Nyota broke the silence.

"Do you know what you'll need to do to revert?"

"Kirk's previous logic was sound on this matter. It is my belief that I will need to share... to share my emotions concerning the destruction of Vulcan to certain people."

"That's going to be awful for you," Nyota said, "But it makes sense. Do you know who these certain people are?"

"You," Spock said. "Kirk. I think that there is a third person who will need to be told, but I do not know who they are."

"You don't know who they are?" Nyota asked. "If you know there's three people you need to tell, how could you not know who one of them is?"

"In my mind," Spock began to explain, "There is a portion dedicated to bonds. It is rather barren, but I have a familial bond with you, Nyota, and I discovered a bond with Kirk. I know, therefore, that I most likely need to tell you both. However last night I encountered a rather new bond, with whom I do not know. I most likely need to tell that person as well."

"Would meditation help you discover who that person is?" Nyota asked.

The thought or returning to that desert garden where his t'hy'la bond stood made Spock tense. He did not want to return to the aching gap where his mother once was or to face the nearly empty field of the collective Vulcan connections. The t'hy'la bond rested in that garden, though, ever welcoming.

"Perhaps," Spock finally said.

"Last night," Nyota began tentatively. "You must've found something pretty shocking during meditation to freak you out that badly."

"I did."

"Would you like to tell me?"

Spock fell quiet, trying to figure out how best to phrase his response. He could do well to be more open with Nyota. He'd be confiding in her later, after all.

"While I was meditating last night," Spock began, "I was attempting to rebuild the walls around my bonds, as they are frayed and painful. In order to do that, however, I was required to enter the area in my mind where the bonds lay. While there, I discovered a most coveted thing- a type of bond held sacred by the Vulcan people."

"T'hy'la?" Nyota asked quietly.

Spock jerked his head up to look at her, surprised.

"You know of t'hy'la?"

"I do," Nyota said. "Is that what your bond with Jim is?"

"It is," Spock whispered.

"Friend, brother, lover, if I'm not wrong? That's what you and Jim have the potential to be?"

"You are not wrong," Spock said. "However, while we have potential, I cannot act upon any desires I may have."

"Why not?" Nyota asked. She seemed genuinely confused, and Spock could do no more than to shake his head.

"I... It is a code from ancient times."

"Okay then," Nyota said. "You don't have to tell me."

Spock felt relief that Nyota had not pressed. She truly was an excellent human, kind and understanding of Vulcan ways. Why they had parted ways, Spock did not know. Perhaps Spock had discovered the t'hy'la bond? But no, he would be unable to act on it. That could not be the reasoning for their separation.

"Nyota, for what reasons did we terminate our romantic relationship?" Spock asked.

"There's no specific reason," Nyota said. "It wasn't one big event. I just came to the realization that we just weren't right for each other."

"Indeed?"

"The only person who was surprised we broke up was Jim," Nyota said, laughing quietly. "It was apparently obvious that we just wouldn't work out in the long run."

"Fascinating," was all Spock could think to say. "Nyota... Would you perhaps accompany me to the dining hall for the evening meal? I find myself reluctant to engage with so many people without someone who can assist me."

"I've made dinner plans with Jim, tonight," Nyota said. "You could join us, though. Two people who understand you are better than one person who can understand you."

"I would not want to intrude on your date," Spock began, but Nyota cut him off.

"Oh, no," she said hurriedly. "We're not- I'd never- He's like a brother to me. I'm not romantically attracted to him at all, I just wanted to offer support. He had a bit of a rough day today."

"Very well then," Spock said. "I have no objections."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I hope you're all doing well and enjoy this chapter! The next one should be up in nine days, as scheduled.


	12. Chapter 12

When Jim's door chimed at 1750, he called, "Enter," without a thought. Nyota wasn't alone, though, and Jim's heart stuttered when he saw Spock standing behind her in his 'Fleet blacks.

"Hey," he said as nonchalantly as he could, standing and entering the hallway where they had remained. "Are you joining us for dinner, Spock?"

"I have been invited," Spock replied. "However, if my presence is unwelcome-"

"No, no," Jim said, waving a hand to cut Spock off. "You're always welcome, Spock."

They began to walk in not-quite-awkward silence. When they arrived at the mess hall, Jim spotted Bones eating alone at a table big enough for four. He turned to Nyota, doubtful due to Spock's presence.

"Bones looks lonely," he commented. "Do we want to go sit with him?"

Nyota glanced at Spock.

"I'm fine with sitting with him," she said. "Spock?"

"I have... no objection." Spock said.

"Awesome," Jim replied.

Bones looked up in surprise when Jim dropped his tray next to him. He frowned slightly when he saw Spock standing near the table, too, but didn't object when they sat down.

"So, Bones," Jim began. "How was the brig?"

Bones scowled fiercely at Jim.

"Sterile, white, and boring as hell. What did you expect?"

"Not much more than that, to be honest."

"You didn't even visit me," Bones grumbled, stabbing at his salad.

"I would have if I'd been in a good enough mental state to do it," Jim said cheerily and flippantly, despite the stinging in his chest at the memories of the previous night.

"You-?" Bones looked confused for a moment, and then turned on Spock with a glare. "What _else_ did you do to him?"

Spock mouth tightened and he ducked his head slightly, not responding. It was unusual behavior, and Jim worried for a moment. Perhaps he was wary of arguing with Bones after what had previously occurred, Jim thought, and the idea was physically painful.

"Bones, no," Jim said sternly. "Your attitude is what landed us here in the first place."

"I was in a highly frazzled emotional state last night and verbally lashed out at Captain Kirk when he attempted to assist me," Spock said, and then looked up and met Jim's eyes. "An event for which I apologize."

"It's alright, Spock," Jim said, a sort of warmth settling over the ache in his chest. "I understand. I verbally lashed out myself when I was undergoing my amnesia."

He didn't remember lashing out, if he had done so at all, but the maybe-truth seemed to make Spock feel better. His posture improved slightly, and he became a little less hesitant. If Jim was wrong, neither Bones nor Nyota called him out on it.

"So," Bones said into the relative silence of their table, refusing to look up from his plate. "I had some time to think while I was in the brig, and, uh... I'm sorry for pushin' you into attacking Jim an' me, Spock."

Jim had to fight hard to keep a wide grin off of his face. He knew it must've been hard for Bones to apologize to Spock, but he had realized the necessity and done it anyways. Jim settled for an small grin.

"I understand that you were simply defending Kirk," Spock said. "As he refused to defend himself."

"Apology accepted," Nyota said, smiling. "That's what he means."

"Good," Bones said awkwardly, nodding. "I don't wanna fight with him when he's not runnin' right."

"Running?" Spock asked. "You speak as if I am a machine, doctor."

"Well," Bones said, giving Spock a grin. "I'm not gonna stop picking on you _completely_. The crew would have a near fit."

Jim and Nyota exchanged amused glances as Spock said, "How would the two of bickering or not bickering impact the crew in any way?"

"We've bickered with each for as long as we've been on the same ship," Bones began. "It's a source of amusement and relief for the crew, sometimes. I know first hand that the two of us not bickerin' sets the crew on edge. You don't remember, but when Jim got reverted, the two of us hardly bickered, both so focused on revertin' Jim. The crew was thrown way out of whack, and there were several bets placed as to when and where our 'truce' would end."

"Fascinating," Spock finally said.

"That's one way to put it," Nyota said.

"I think I remember Hannah telling me something about that," Jim said. "How the two of you were getting along scarily well during my reversion."

"The only unfazed person on the entire ship was Christine Chapel," Nyota said, and took a sip of her soup.

"Of course she wasn't fazed," Bones said. He almost sounded offended. "She's my very best nurse."

"Captain Kirk," Spock began. "I was given a book of anecdotes about you shared by the crew by Nyota last night."

"How'd the reading go?" Jim asked tentatively, heart beginning to pound in his chest. He prayed that Nyota's plan had worked- after all, Spock had joined them for dinner and hadn't yet said anything rude.

"I have found that I previously held an erroneous conclusion as to your moral character."

That sounded very good. Jim had to fight to keep a blinding grin off of his face, and instead tried to give off an air of mild curiosity.

"Oh?"

Spock took that as his cue to keep talking. Bones had stopped eating, more focused on what Spock was going to say. Perhaps he was waiting for another insult. Nyota alone had not slowed or stopped the consumption of her dinner, seeming entirely unworried. Seeing her so calm helped to calm Jim down, as well.

"I have realized that the person I believed you to truly be was more of a facade than it was truthful. The anecdotes do not portray you as arrogant or insolent. My view of you as reckless still stands, however. Your actions in many of the anecdotes resulted in your own injuries."

Jim grinned brightly.

"Oh, he's reckless all right," Bones grumbled. "The amount of times I've had to patch him up after he's decided to pull some stupid stunt..."

"Oh come on, Bones," Jim protested. "It hasn't been _that_ many times."

"Two hundred and eighteen."

"Huh?"

"That's how many times I've had to patch you up on this five year mission alone. I'm not even counting the first few years of your captaincy."

"No way."

"I don't doubt Leonard's numbers, Jim," Nyota said. "They sound reasonable to me."

"There's _no way_ I've been hurt that many times."

"D'ya want me to pull up sickbay logs? Because I can do that."

"No, no, you're good."

"That's what I thought."

Jim turned away from Bones to face Spock again, grinning toothily.

"So, any other observations or thoughts on my character? Preferably not any harsh ones."

"You are highly protective of the defenseless and those you deem to be under your care," Spock stated.

"That's fairly accurate," Jim said, nodding.

"I found two of Doctor McCoy's anecdotes to be of particular interest."

"Ah, the infant and the young woman?"

"Indeed. Why did you endanger yourself to save the infant when you could have left the saving of the infant to firefighters just as easily? You were not aware that the house was about to collapse and that the firefighters would not have been able to save the infant."

"Because I could," Jim said. "The mother was freaking out and there was an infant inside the house. Besides, I worked as a firefighters for a while, kind of. I could tell that the house was about to collapse."

"Was your firefighter stint at about the same time as your time in the Russian Circus?" Nyota asked teasingly.

"It was, actually. I flew back from Moscow and ran out of money in Independence, Missouri, so I stayed there for a while. A local firefighter took me in, and I learned a lot about firefighting while I was there. I even volunteered at the firehouse sometimes."

"I... I find that highly unlikely," Spock said. "However, you seem to take great pleasure in defying odds and doing the unlikely."

"It wouldn't be the craziest thing I've heard about your past," Bones said. He sounded almost resigned to Jim's semantics, and by that point, he probably was.

"With the anecdote concerning the young woman, you seemed to be greatly invested in her safety. You did not merely drive the predator away, but ensured that she had a way to get home safely. Why did you take the extra measures?"

Jim pursed his lips and looked down at his meal, the food in his stomach churning. He shoved aside the defensive fear that came with discussing the young woman and her issue, and thought for a moment about what to say.

"She needed help," Jim said. "I mean, sure, I fended off one dude, but what if there was another one who decided that a drunk young woman walking home alone would be a nice target? Me helping her would be a moot point if she was assaulted in the way home after being saved from being assaulted in a bar."

"A logical decision," Spock finally said.

A silence fell over the table, slightly awkward from the raising of rather sensitive topics. Jim was just about to say something, anything, just to break the silence when a new voice spoke up.

"Jim?"

Jim looked up to see Hannah standing by the table, smiling at him. He was halfway through smiling back when he heard Spock's voice, terse and icy.

"Ensign, you do not address the captain of your ship in such a casual manner."

Hannah shifted awkwardly on her feet, looking extremely uncomfortable. Jim turned a glare on Spock.

"Spock," he snapped. "You don't remember this, of course, but all members of my crew have full permission to address me casually. Especially crew members like Hannah."

Spock said nothing, and Jim huffed out an irritated breath. When he turned back to Hannah, he tried to give her a comforting smile.

"Yes, Hannah?"

"Kev, Juli, and I are heading over to the rec room for a game of poker. Do you want in?" She sounded hesitant to ask due to Spock's reaction, and Jim mentally cursed him for being so needlessly rude.

"I think I'll have to pass for tonight," Jim said. "How about lunch tomorrow, the four of us?"

Jim could feel Spock's not-glare like a physical object, and resolutely ignored it. If Spock had an issue, he could vocalize it.

"That sounds good," Hannah said. "I'll go pass that on to Kev and Juli. See you tomorrow, Jim."

"See you tomorrow, Hannah."

When Hannah had disappeared, Jim finally looked Spock in the eyes and raised an eyebrow- a feat he'd just recently learned how to do. Spock said nothing, just looked at Jim with pinched lips.

"Yes?" Jim asked. "I can tell you're pissed at me. I know your facial expressions."

"If you encourage too much camaraderie between subordinates and superior officers, they will lose respect for your authority," Spock said stiffly.

"This isn't just a workplace, and they're not just subordinates, Spock," Jim said. "This is also our home, and they're real people. It's hard to inspire loyalty- one of the most important things when it comes to running a starship- if they don't ever get to know you as anything more than a stern captain. I know that at first, if we're going to discuss Machiavelli, you believed that fear was the better style of command. That's not true.

"The crew sees me as a person, not just a uniform, and they gain respect. There's something it seems you've yet to learn about humans, Spock. Relatability leads to loyalty and respect, and if you don't have loyalty, than you're not much of a Captain at all. I'm the 'Fleet's favorite captain for a reason, and it's partially due to the relationships between crew members."

"The bonds between this crew is a good part of what makes this ship so amazing," Bones said in agreement.

"He's right, Spock," Nyota said. "This crew is so good and so unique partially because Jim's not an uptight, impersonal captain."

"A most unusual tactic," Spock said, still sounding kind of pissed.

"Maybe, but it works."

"I require meditation," Spock said abruptly, and stood from his seat.

"I'll walk you back," Jim said, standing as well. "I'm done with dinner anyways."

"There is no need," Spock said, but didn't object when Jim came around the table to stand by him.

"Bye Bones, bye Nyota."

Bones and Nyota said their goodbyes, and Spock led the way out of the mess hall with stiff shoulders. Jim wondered what had Spock so uppity- surely Spock couldn't have that big of an issue with how Jim ran his ship? He had never previously voiced discontent with the lack of formality.

Jim shook his head in confusion and kept walking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I almost forgot I was supposed to update, lol, but thankfully I remembered before I had to go to sleep. Here's the latest chapter, and I hope you all enjoy it! The next chapter will be up in nine days, as scheduled.


	13. Chapter 13

Spock was in desperate need of meditation when he departed from the mess hall, head feeling as if it had been stuffed with cotton. Kirk had insisted on joining him as they walked back to their quarters, and kept attempting to engage in small talk. Spock refused to indulge him, unsure as to how he might respond if he did choose to 'chat.'

He gave no traditional parting words, and in fact gave none at all when he disappeared into his quarters. The heat was a welcome comfort, and Spock stopped for a moment to appreciate it, closing his eyes and breathing deeply. He then dressed himself in meditation robes, lit incense, and knelt upon the unrolled mat.

It was more difficult than it should have been to sink into meditation, the usual clear path feeling almost as if it were obstructed with cobwebs. He managed, however, and soon found himself in the landscape of his mind. It was not familiar, however, a detail he missed when he descended directly to his bonds.

_Over the years that he cannot remember, it has subtly changed. It is like traveling down a river in a rowboat- he doesn't feel like he has traveled very far, but now he is forced to turn around and see how far he's come. Perhaps more accurately, it is like leaving his house only to come back and find that things are slightly out of place, some things missing and some new things present._

_As he begins to strengthen the walls around his bonds, around the desert and the ocean that rage inside, he feels a faint shift from within before the sensations are completely blocked out. Curious, Spock pushes on the mental door he has allowed for access to his bonds._

_The pain is striking, as it always is, and he takes a moment to compose himself. Once he feels that he is no longer in danger of being overwhelmed by his emotions, he surveys his surroundings. Something has changed, that much he felt. But what has changed?_

_The short tree, the new tree, is not as short as it had previously been. It is taller, and stronger. Spock approaches it, trying to cast aside the pain he feels from being so close to the gaping wound of his mother's bond. The new bond is able to give off some emotions, and when Spock lays a careful hand on it he feels the faintest sense of_ amusement happy worry-for-Jim worry-for-Spock laughter.

_Spock has a hypothesis of who the young bond might belong to, but he's not sure he really wants to know for sure at the moment. He stands, the bottom of his Vulcan robes dragging in the sand. His bond with his father, he notices, is not as unused as it had been before. The thought of reopening communication with his father is a strangely welcome thought, and Spock takes a moment to check to see if it is the same with Michael. It is not._

_In the distance stands the t'hy'la bond. A wave of guilt sweeps over Spock, and he has to close his eyes and turn away from the vibrant life in his mind. He does not deserve a t'hy'la. Harming one who would complete him so perfectly is an inexcusable crime._

_Spock leaves his bonds._

_In the main part of his mind there lies a maze of Vulcan red stone shot through with blue the color of the Terran sky. He knows the maze by heart, has walked it since he was young enough to be able to meditate, and the walls shifted for him. It is different than it once was, however, far more blue than he has seen here since he was very young. Perhaps it is due to his constant exposure to humans._

_Perhaps it is due to Kirk._

_Spock wanders, and eventually finds himself by the gates. Beyond lays only darkness, as he is unbonded. Were he maritally bonded, glimpses of his mate's mind would be visible._

_He remembers vaguely what T'Pring's mind was like. They kept shielded from each other for the majority of their time bonded to each other, but he remembers what it was like during their bonding, and during the scarce times over the years that they left their minds unshielded._

_T'Pring's mind had been cold, and calming shades of red and orange. She seemed to be an embodiment of the desert at night, cool and almost terrifying. Had she chosen to, had she lived long enough to, Spock was fairly sure that she would have attempted Kolinahr and done exceedingly well. She was a natural logician, not solely due to her Vulcan heritage._

_Spock kneels at the gates of his mind, spiraling wrought iron like gates on ancient Terran mansions, and begins to reconstruct his mental shields. His maze, his mind, is to be impenetrable. It is the only way that he will be able to function._

_Spock wonders what Kirk's mind would be like, if he were to form a martial bond with him. He was unable to control the forming of the t'hy'la bond, but he could prevent their entanglement with each other from going any further. Still, he wonders._

_Would it be as chaotic as his human half, Kirk's mind a bold, shattering force? Would it be a twisting maze, dark with unused energy and unknown details? Would it pulse and glow like a supernova, like stars? It's supposed to be perfect to Spock, an oasis, but he doesn't know what perfect is._

_Satisfied with the security and strength of his emotional and mental shields, Spock wanders some more. Above his head, Vulcan constellations shimmer. His trail is aimless, and he finds himself minutes later in front of the small door that leads to his bonds once more._

_Spock steps inside._

_In the distance, he can hear the ocean crashing against the sand. Human versus Vulcan. He ignores the struggle and walks towards his bonds. The bonds sing to him, whispering of their states. Nyota is amused and content, as is the small and new tree. His father does not emit emotion, and he can sense a very faint sense of happiness from Michael._

_He is not interested in any of his familial bonds, however. The bond that calls to him and drives his feet to move is his t'hy'la bond, the tree that vibrates with life and vitality. Spock knows, rationally, that he should not interact with the t'hy'la bond. He does not deserve the pleasure or sense of completion that a bond such as that could give._

_Nevertheless, Spock kneels by the t'hy'la tree and gently places a hand on its side. He ignores the guilt, the shame of doing something that he should not._

_Kirk feels_ sad tired sad wants-Spock wants-Bones shame loneliness frustration sad.

_Spock recoils from the tree, tears brimming in his too human eyes. Is it his fault that his bondmate is in such distress? Is it something that he can fix? Something inside of him lurches, desperate to reduce Kirk's suffering._

_It is with a stuttering, sinking feeling that Spock recalls that he has no right to even think of Kirk as his bondmate. The bond exists, but Spock has tainted it and cannot use it. He should not even be close to it, he should avoid it as much as possible, but it calls to him._

_Spock stands and staggers away from the bond, to the doorway that leads to the rest of his mind. Leaning against the frame for a moment, Spock gazed out at the desert where it crashes against the waves. A strange, unbidden thought came to mind, shocking Spock._

_If Kirk were to enter his mind, to witness the maze and the eternal battle of Human versus Vulcan, what would he think? Would he be fascinated? Would he be repulsed?_

_Why does Spock care what Kirk would think?_

Spock emerged from meditation rather abruptly, taking a deep breath and opening his eyes. Incense filled his nose, dancing shadows cast by flame taunting him. The room was dim, and it almost seemed to suffocate Spock.

"Lights at seventy percent," Spock rasped, and snuffed out the meditation flame as the lights above his head burst to life.

He took a moment to compose himself before standing on slightly unsteady legs. Arms tucked behind his back, Spock looked over at the door that lead to the bathroom, separating his quarters from Kirk's. His lips tightened as he thought.

Kirk had been distressed. Spock could, realistically, enter his quarters and attempt to alleviate his distress. Kirk's distress partially stemmed from Spock, however. If Spock were to attempt to help, there existed the very real possibility of Spock only increasing Kirk's distress.

Spock assumed that his presence would help if humans were more logical. Kirk missed Spock, but Spock was not 'Spock.' It was his friend that Kirk missed, and Spock in his current state was not Kirk's friend. Seeing Spock, who looked and sounded just like his friend, would do nothing to help and would in fact most likely only serve to further upset Kirk.

Mild irritation at such illogic bubbling in his chest, Spock began to prepare himself for bed.

* * *

Jim was tense from his not-argument with Spock, which was a shame, because he had been in a much better mood during dinner. But then Spock had taken offense to Hannah calling Jim by his name, or something like that, and the fragile camaraderie that Jim had been trying to build broke again. Nothing was ever simple when it came to Spock, Jim mused sullenly. Especially not when he was emotionally disturbed.

Jim knew that he was one of the people that Spock would need to confess his emotions to. He also knew that Spock would most likely confide in Nyota first, which Jim could (kind of) deal with. It was just the blatant preference that was throwing Jim off.

Spock so clearly preferred Nyota to everyone else on board, and he definitely preferred Nyota to Jim. It was disturbing and upsetting, having so recently been one of Spock's closest confidantes. The entire situation was disturbing and upsetting, but the loss of trust and the unreturned emotional investment was what rattled Jim the most.

Jim suppressed a groan and instead settled for scrubbing a hand over his face. He was only going to drive himself to a sleepless, depressing night if he kept thinking. It would be better if he could shut his brain down before his thoughts spiraled out of control.

He prepped for bed as quickly as he could, resolutely not thinking about Spock, who was meditating on the other side of their bathroom. When he climbed into bed, clad only in boxers, the decline into sleep was quick. It seemed that he was far more tired than he had thought he was, and he was grateful. His sleep, however, was not dreamless.

_Jim wakes, warm and relaxed, in a room that is familiar and yet foreign all the same. Soft light shines in through the window, thick red drapes with intricate golden designs on either side of it. The silk duvet covering the king sized bed is heavy, also a rich ruby color. Jim sits up and surveys the rest of the room, the itch of familiarity tickling the back of his mind. A large dresser of a dark wood stands on the opposite wall as the bed, the frame of which is the same color._

_When Jim slides out of bed, his feet encounter plush carpeting. It's warm, a patch of sunlight having fallen over it. Jim stretches and sighs in relief as his lethargy begins to fade. He'll still need coffee, though._

_A delicious smell is coming from somewhere, and Jim has his hand on the doorknob before he realizes that he's naked. He looks back at the dresser and returns to it, opening a drawer at random. He's pleased to find sweatpants in the drawer, and pulls them on quickly. They're very soft, and just his size._

_When Jim reaches out for the doorknob again, he notices a golden band on his left ring finger. He stops for a moment, door half open. Is he married? To whom? Jim's never thought of himself as the marrying type, but apparently he's found the right person._

_When he opens the door and sees the hallway beyond, his breath catches. It's his childhood home in Iowa, renovated to suit the needs of a new family._ His _family. Pleasantly shocked, Jim pads silently to the stairs and begins his way down them._

_The giggling of young children reaches Jim's ears, and his face reflexively blooms into a smile. When he reaches the bottom of the stairs, he turns to the kitchen, away from the giggling in the living room. The recognizable but renovated kitchen holds a tall, lean figure with dark hair._

_Spock turns from the stove, where he's cooking an actual omelet, and Jim smiles brightly. Of course it's Spock that he would find here. Who else could it be?_

_"Good morning, ashayam," Spock says._

_"Good morning, sweetheart," Jim says._

_He approaches Spock and puts his hands on Spock's hips. Spock brings his hands up to rest on Jim's shoulders and brings him into a kiss, warm and oh so right._

_"Eeeeew!" a child squeals from behind Jim. He pulls away and turns to find two kids standing in the doorway to the kitchen._

_The girl looks to be about seven, with long, dark hair and bright blue eyes under slanted eyebrows. Her hair is pulled back in a braid that allows her pointed ears to be seen, but despite her Vulcan appearance, she has a playful grimace on her face. The name Amanda comes to mind._

_The younger one, a boy of about five, is the one who squealed. His hair is bright blonde, just like Jim's, but his eyes are brown. He has the familiar pointed ears, but his eyebrows are not slanted. Solek, his mind supplies._

_"Ew?" Jim says, smiling._

_"Kissing is gross," Solek announces with the certainty and finality particular to five year olds._

_Amanda nods her agreement, as if to settle the matter._

_"Well," Jim says, laughing. "I'm sorry you feel that way. Now come on, sa-mehk is just about done preparing breakfast."_

_Amanda and Solek rush to the table. Jim's fond smile flickers when he hears a faint cry of distress coming from... somewhere._

_"Spock," he says. "Did you hear that?"_

_Spock looks up from where he's about to take the omelet out of the pan. He tips his head in that adorable way he always does, and shakes his head._

_"I have heard nothing out of the ordinary, Jim. Are you alright?"_

_Another cry, a little louder, and Jim begins to look around. His brow is furrowed, mouth pursed slightly. Spock sets a hand on Jim's shoulder._

_"Jim?"_

_A third cry, an_

d Jim lurched upward. He was wide awake, but a painful ache thudded in his chest at the loss of what he had had, if only in a dream. How pathetic he was. How cruel his mind was, to play such tricks on him.

Jim shook his head, dispelling the self-pitying thoughts. The sound had pulled him from his dream, and clearly required attention. It was a sound that caused Jim to nearly shudder with sympathy.

There was a fourth cry, weaker and trembling. Jim located the source immediately, and his heart stuttered in his chest. It was Spock, crying out loud enough to rouse Jim from his sleep.

Surely, despite how pissed Spock might be, Jim had to help?

Before Jim could chicken out, he found himself in Spock's hot quarters, striding towards his bed. He halted for only a moment when he managed to truly see Spock in the dim light before continuing.

Spock's blankets were twisted around his waist, entangling his legs. His bare, heaving chest shone with a thin sheen of human sweat, hands opening and closing where they lay by his side. Spock's head tossed back and forth, face crumpled in a devastated, tortured expression. His hair was a mess, eyebrows pinched and mouth slightly open. A cry tore itself from his mouth, startling Jim into action.

"Spock," Jim said gently, sitting down beside him.

He reached out hesitant hands that hovered just above Spock's shoulders. Should he touch him? Vulcans were touch telepaths after all, and Spock certainly didn't need Jim's distress added to his own. But he wasn't sure that he could pull Spock from his nightmare with his voice alone.

Spock let out another cry, and it sounded more like a sob. Jim cursed and reached down, grabbing Spock's shoulders and shaking them.

"Spock!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I had a lot of fun writing this chapter, since it has both a meditation scene and a dream. I hope that you guys enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it! The next chapter should be up in nine days, as scheduled.


	14. Chapter 14

_Spock burns._

_It is not the fires of pon farr that heat him, but rage that sets his blood aflame and blinds him. His bones ache with the anger, the fury, the desire to kill. Fingers twitch and stretch, hands pained at the denial of a target._

_He stands on the bridge of a starship, empty and barren. Vulcan glows in sunlight on the viewscreen, the familiar shades or orange and red doing nothing to abate his verdant rage. Quiet whispers of breath can be heard from behind him, and Spock turns to find Cadet Kirk sitting in the captain's chair, a cocky grin plastered on his face._

_Spock snarls, shifting into an offensive position. Cadet Kirk seems entirely unbothered, and in fact grins even wider. He sits in a casual, lazy sprawl. His legs are spread, one draped over the arm of the chair._

_"Where's that famous control of yours now?" Kirk taunts. "I mean, stars, you look like some sort of animal."_

_'You are no better than a Terran mutt.' Stonn's voice echoes in his ears, thunderous. 'You are a product of two species and belong to neither.'_

_"Cadet Kirk," Spock growls. "Desist."_

_"Desist? Why?" Kirk's eyes sparkle dangerously, like those of a le-matya before it pounces. "After all, Vulcans are pacifists. Unless, of course... you aren't a real Vulcan?"_

_A snarl is torn from deep in Spock's chest. His vision is tinted green, fists clenched and shaking at his sides. Cadet Kirk still looks entirely unconcerned. In fact, he only looks pleased when Spock snarls._

_"Ooh, what a big scary Vulcan you are," he nearly coos. "What're you going to do, choke me? Kinky."_

_Spock hears what sounds suspiciously like a thunderclap, although storms don't exist in space-_

_Lightning storm in space..._

_-and he lunges at Cadet Kirk._

_He impacts the chair. Cadet Kirk is gone, vanished like some sort of phantom from old Terran stories. Spock rights himself at turns, surveying the bridge. Cadet Kirk cannot hide from him._

_There he is, standing in front of the navigation and piloting console at the front of the bridge. Vulcan gleams behind him, and the grin on Cadet Kirk's face raises very un-Vulcan hatred in Spock. Spock leaps again, and this time, Cadet Kirk does not disappear fast enough._

_He slams down on the console, breath leaving him in a massive huff. When Spock meets his eyes, they widen in fear, the blue of his iris changing just slightly to something less hypnotizing, less vibrant. He taunts until Spock's hand is wrapped around his neck, and then he finally displays the fear he should have shown long before._

_Deep inside of him, something small and rational begs Spock to release Cadet Kirk. It pleads with him that Cadet Kirk is a friend, that he has forgotten the Vulcan way, that he must stop now before he spends his life grieving the loss of something infinitely precious. The voice is easily crushed, smothered by his anger, and it wails despairingly._

_"Spock," Cadet Kirk wheezes. "Spock."_

_Cadet Kirk's face shifts to that of Doctor McCoy, nose bloody and eyes red with burst capillaries. Then Doctor McCoy's face shifts to an older Kirk, no longer a cadet but a captain in gold. Spock squeezes tighter, and Kirk's mouth opens and closes but no air passes in or out. His face is turning purple, chest lurching with the desire to breathe. One of Kirk's legs kicks out desperately, pathetically, and clips Spock on the shin. It does nothing to deter him._

_The little, rational thing in Spock is screaming, fighting. It is trying to tear itself free of the shackles that Spock has weighed it down in. The rational part of him would spare Kirk's life, so close to being destroyed._

_"Spock!"_

_It's four voices at once. It's his father, his mother, Nyota, and the man below him._

_"Spock, stop!"_

_Kirk's eyes are rolling back in his head, body beginning to go slack. Spock does not want to let him go until his body is cold and stiff, until no fear bleeds through their skin contact._

_The rational part of Spock finally rips its way out and takes control, and Spock sees what he's done. He sees his t'hy'la nearly dead by his hands, and releases him with a trembling cry as grief and self loathing wash over him, uncontrollable. Spock staggers backwards, his legs giving out._

_Kirk collapses to the floor, and his chest does not move. His limbs are splayed at odd angles like a discarded puppet, the pink hue of his skin fading to a sickly, terrifying gray. The purple, too, is fading from Kirk's face. His eyes, normally so vibrant, are dull and unfocused._

_A glowing, shimmering thread appears in Spock's vision, stretching out between them. He notices with a horror unmatched by anything he's ever felt that it is a physical manifestation of their t'hy'la bond. Before his eyes, it strains and snaps, sending agonizing pain shooting through his skull and ravaging his mind._

_Spock's hands fly up to grasp at his head as if there is anything he can do to alleviate the pain. He lets out a very un-Vulcan sob where he sits by the captain's chair. What has he done?_ What has he done?

_Above Jim's corpse, beyond the viewscreen, Vulcan cracks and collapses into nothingness. Billions of psychic screams rattle around inside his head as almost an entire species dies nearly simultaneously._

_"Spock?"_

_There are hands on his shoulders, shaking him. He ignores them. He deserves to die for what he's done._

_"Spock!"_

Spock came to consciousness halfway through a sob. He trembled all over, and his blankets were twisted uncomfortably tight around his legs. The hands on his shoulders broadcasted fear and concern before they removed themselves. In the dark, it took Spock a long moment to realize who was bent over him.

It was Kirk.

Kirk, who was breathing and pink and broadcasting emotions and _alive_.

"Hey," Kirk whispered. "Spock, are you okay? Is there anything I can do to help?"

"I-" Spock began, but was unable to say more.

His dream seemed to haunt him, to prevent his throat from working. What an illogical thought, as dreams were merely illusions of the mind and had no power to stop the functioning of his voice. And yet, Spock struggled for words every time he opened his mouth.

"It's alright, Spock," Kirk murmured soothingly. "It was just a dream. You're okay."

"It is not myself that I grieved for," Spock whispered, voice rough.

Kirk was silent for a moment.

"Would you like to talk about it?" Kirk asked quietly. "When I was reverted, talking about my nightmares helped. Maybe it'll help you, too."

"I assume you confided in Doctor McCoy," Spock said, and noted with relief that his voice sounded almost normal. "I doubt you will be able to assist me as well as he was able to assist you."

"Believe it or not, it wasn't Bones that I confided in at first." Kirk paused, as if debating whether or not to continue. "It was you. I stayed with you, and when I'd wake up from nightmares screaming, you'd be there to help me. After the first one or two, I started discussing them with you to make myself feel better." Spock thought he saw Kirk smile slightly in the darkness. "I figured I'd repay the favor. Also, you sounded pretty upset."

"Sounded..." Some sort of fog cleared out of Spock's brain, and he blinked up at Kirk. He was better able to see now that his eyes had adjusted. "What is the current time?"

"Uh... 0217." Kirk sounded almost guilty at the admission.

"Did I wake you?"

"It's no big deal, I rarely get a good night's sleep anyways, being captain and all. Besides, I was having a dumb dream. It's... very unlikely that my dream will ever come close to passing."

"Still, I regret to have pulled you from your slumber."

Spock sat up, forcing Kirk to scoot backwards on the bed. He then began to untangle himself from his sheets.

"No regret," Kirk said, frowning. "I'm... I know you don't remember and probably don't care or even like me at all, but I'm your friend. We look out for each other."

"That does seem to be a pattern in our interactions during away missions," Spock said.

Kirk laughed quietly, the sound sending a guilty warmth through Spock. He did not deserve to derive pleasure from Kirk, whether it be from his laugh or their bond. Spock shuffled away from Kirk just slightly, but ever observant, Kirk frowned when he did.

"Really, are you okay?" Kirk asked. "You can tell me anything, you know. I'm not going to be repulsed or anything if you choose to share it with me."

"I... I recall the minutes after my memory ceases. I remember what you said, and how I reacted."

Kirk's face instantly filled with a heavy sorrow and regret.

"I didn't mean what I said," Kirk said, voice hoarse. "It hurt me, to say those things, but I had to take command of the ship. I'm so, so sorry."

"No regret," Spock found himself saying, copying Kirk's earlier words.

Kirk laughed weakly.

"Well," he said. "It's two in the morning, a time where inhibitions about what people admit to others are generally lowered, and I have a feeling that I'm on your VIP list. Would... would you like to talk? About Vulcan, about whatever you need to."

Spock remained silent for a long moment.

His opinion of and relationship with Kirk was confusing. Kirk was a walking contradiction, a source of fascination and a source of irritation. They had been friends, or so everyone said. The thought of him naming someone so illogical and unpredictable a friend was almost absurd, but he felt that there were far worse individuals to associate with.

Still... had he developed enough trust in Kirk to confide in him on the matter of emotions?

At first, the thought was repulsive. He was Vulcan, and Vulcans did not display their emotions, much less _discuss_ them. However, despite his wariness, Kirk's eyes held nothing but kindness and genuine concern. Of all species, humans were the least likely to criticize him for having emotions.

He looked up at Kirk, who sat still apart from hands twisting on his lap and a lip pinched between his teeth. Kirk was clearly nervous, and Spock wondered how Kirk could feel intimidated by him when he was half dressed and still trembling ever so slightly from a nightmare.

"I believe that the correct human colloquialism is, 'I'm as ready as I'll ever be.'"

Kirk laughed, then grew somber again.

"You... You just talk. I'll listen. Then hopefully, the next time you fall asleep, you'll remember me. That's how it worked for me, at least. I remembered people once I confessed to them."

"A logical conclusion."

Spock took a moment to compose himself, to figure out what he wanted to say. It was far harder than he had anticipated, his Vulcan training trying to resist despite the necessity.

"When I was young," Spock began, "my mother would not hesitate to show me affection. She would hug and kiss me as often as she could get away with. I adored her, and the affection she would bestow upon me.

"As I grew, however, I began to realize that other mothers on Vulcan did not act as my mother did. I was already conscious of my differences at five, of the prejudice of others. I already desired to be the perfect Vulcan, and so I began to spurn my mother's expressions of love. I would deny hugs, refuse her offers to read me bedtime stories as she loved to do.

"I watched it create a terrible sadness in her. Her humanity cried out to love me visibly, but I would not allow her to. I allowed her to suffer in my pursuit of perfection. Not..." Spock began to feel a tightening in his throat, making speaking difficult. His eyes began to burn in an unfamiliar way as his eyes began to water up. "Not once did I ever tell her that I loved her more than almost anything.

"She was a constant presence in my life, her love never wavering. I did not realize how much her love meant to me until... until it was no longer there. I did not think to tell her that I loved her until it was too late."

Spock took a deep breath, and was vaguely horrified to hear his breath stutter. He was careful when he exhaled so that it would not happen again.

"She lived all those years on a planet that barely tolerated her, with a child who rejected his own humanity and a husband who refused to accept her child's humanity, and I never once told her that I loved her." Spock's voice came out thick and rough. "Such an important thing to humans, verbal expressions of love, and yet I could not... I did not..."

After several moments of silence, Jim spoke up quietly.

"She knew," he said. "Trust me, she knew."

When Spock looked up at Jim from where his gaze had fallen to his hands on his lap, and discovered that Jim was hard to see through tears.

"How?" Spock whispered.

Jim smiled softly and sadly, like he knew Spock's pain, and reached out to lay a hand on Spock's arm. His touch radiated acceptance and reassurance.

"They always know."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I'm so excited to post this chapter. I hope you guys enjoy it! As scheduled, the next chapter should be up in nine days.


	15. Chapter 15

Spock just talked, Jim didn't know for how long.

He spoke of his mother. Jim learned as he listened, of a strong and loving woman. He learned about how Spock had always admired his mother because she was different and scorned and she never cowed under their haughty tones and snide comments. He learned about how Amanda used to read Lewis Carroll's 'Alice in Wonderland' to Spock as a bedtime story, a reprieve from logic. He learned about how Amanda would stroke Spock's hair when he would return from especially taxing school days to try to calm him, before he became too old.

Spock spoke of Vulcan, as well. Jim learned of a planet he'd never been to, of secret places that would never again bring Spock comfort. Jim learned of Amanda's garden, Earth flora surviving and thriving on Vulcan under Amanda's careful rendering, and how Spock would often go to the garden after long and difficult days to calm himself. Spock felt at home in the garden, a hybrid just like him. Jim learned of a small cave in the foothills of a mountain near Spock's childhood home, where a boy and a sehlat would go to seclude themselves from a planet harsh in more ways than just its climate.

By the time Spock finished, his voice was hoarse and his eyes had watered over more than once. Jim knew more than enough not to say anything about it, no matter how he longed to wipe away Spock's tears. The situation was fragile, and the slightest wrong move could result in Spock clamming up again. Jim didn't know what would happen if Spock's confession was interrupted.

When Spock finally lapsed into silence and looked at Jim with the softest, most fragile gaze, Jim knew that it was over. He ignored the way his heart ached at Spock's vulnerability, the way his body screamed to pull Spock into an embrace, and instead laid a hand on Spock's leg, still covered by the blanket.

 _"S'ti th'laktra_ ," Jim said. _I grieve with thee._

Spock looked at him, face betraying his mild surprise.

"You speak Vulcan?"

"Yes."

"You are aware, then, that you have addressed me as one would address a grieving family member?"

"I am," Jim said quietly. "I figured it was appropriate."

Spock said nothing in reply, and Jim took that as a good sign. It hadn't offended Spock, anyways.

The chronometer on Spock's bedside table read 0341. Jim's eyebrows raised in surprise, and he looked back at Spock. He had not moved, still staring at Jim with an unidentifiable emotion lingering behind his slowly rising mask.

"It's almost four in the morning," Jim said. "We have to wake up at around seven. That's a couple more hours of sleep you could grab, and it'll probably be enough for your memories to come back."

"Will you attempt to sleep as well?" Spock asked.

"Nah. Once I'm up, it's pretty difficult for me to go back to sleep unless I'm absolutely exhausted. I got about what I normally do, I'll be fine."

"Then... good morning. I bid that your time before your shift be fruitful."

Jim smiled and stood, suddenly aware of how sweaty he had become over the course of Spock's confession. He resisted the urge to wave his hand to try to cool himself.

"Good morning, Spock. Sleep well."

Spock nodded in response, and Jim excused himself through their bathroom.

He sighed in relief from the oppressive temperature when he stepped into the blessedly cooler bathroom. Eyeing the shower, Jim considered his state. He really was quite gross, as he tended to be after being in Spock's quarters for too long. A shower was a good idea. It had the potential to disturb Spock, though.

Or, Jim pondered, he could go to the gym. He was already awake and sweaty, and four in the morning was as good of a time as any for a workout. Then he could use the gym showers, or he could come back to his quarters and shower once Spock was in a deeper sleep.

Jim reentered his own quarters, hunting for his athletic pants and clothing he could put on after his shower, in case he decided to do so in the gym. After several long minutes, he was triumphant. He truly did need to reorganize his quarters, as Spock had previously reminded him so many times.

Jim left his quarters, steps slightly springy with the anticipation of a good workout.

* * *

_Spock looks down at a brash young cadet sitting in the center chair of his simulated exam. He munches on an apple, a smirk on his face. The cadet is entirely too arrogant, and Spock is bewildered because his test is unbeatable, and yet this cadet has found a way to beat it. A loud crunch sounds behind him, and Spock turns away from the simulation room._

_He finds himself on the bridge of a starship, and Spock knows this memory, knows how he will choke the cadet against the console until his father's stern tone finally cuts through his anger._

No _, he thinks._ Not this, not again.

_And the dream moves on._

_The bridge pulls in on itself like his planet did, disappearing into nothing, except it does slides away to reveal a new location. He is in his quarters, stark and impersonal because they were not yet supposed to be inhabited, and Cadet- Captain- Kirk stands in front of him._

_"Do you have any engineering experience? Anyone who does is being asked to help out and try to fix up the ship so we can get home faster."_

_"I do not believe that I could be of much use," Spock says. "I do not believe you could be, either."_

_Captain Kirk scowls, his eyes darkening in a fascinating way, and says, "What do you know about me? You haven't had one actual conversation with me since we defeated Nero. You don't know anything about me."_

_"Perhaps you are right," Spock says, but he does not think so._

_He knows Kirk's type. He knows how they flirt and taunt and have no true sense of leadership. He knows how they pretend to know what they're doing until they crash and burn and drag others down with them. He knows they are dangerous._

_"Perhaps I am," Kirk says, tone cold._

_A gust of cold air sweeps through the room, and Spock closes his eyes briefly. When they open, he is standing in a shuttle bay. The majority of the_ Enterprise _crew is exiting shuttles or the shuttle bay, and excitement, exhaustion, and relief fill the room._

_He has not yet been spotted and swarmed by those reporters allowed in to the shuttle bay, but he knows he has very little time before it happens. Spock will be, most likely, the crew member that many reporters will want to talk to the most._

_The thought disgusts him. The reporters in the shuttle bay disgust him. An entire planet has been destroyed, a once thriving species now the verge of extinction, and these reporters want to gush about how brave the senior crew of one starship was. It seems heartless, for a species that is generally so empathetic._

_Captain Kirk is close by, and many reporters are too occupied by him to give Spock much notice. He could leave now, while everyone is clamoring to talk with Captain Kirk, and likely not have to talk to a single reporter. However, Spock finds himself lingering and listening to Captain Kirk as he is interviewed._

_"Captain Kirk, how did you manage to defeat the deranged Romulan, Nero?"_

_"It wasn't just me," Kirk says. "It was the hard work of every single crew member. Lieutenant Sulu was a superb pilot when we dropped out of warp into an orbit of decimated starships, and without his help I wouldn't have survived once we landed on the drill platform above Vulcan. Ensign Chekov was the one who figured out how we could sneak up on the_ Narada _so we wouldn't get destroyed when we tried to stop him. Lieutenant-Commander Scott managed to work magic with the engines and he saved the lives of many when he manned the transporter. Lieutenant Uhura and Doctor McCoy were both more behind the scenes, but did excellent work as well. Lieutenant Uhura was the main organizer of the plan that took down the_ Narada _, piecing together the ideas thrown out into one comprehensive strategy, and Doctor McCoy, short staffed, led the treatment of many Vulcans after the original CMO was killed, despite the lack of information as to the treatment of Vulcans."_

_"And what about Commander Spock?"_

_"Oh, the Commander played a major part in the plan's success. He piloted the ship containing the substance that destroyed the_ Narada _, and saved most of the Vulcan High Council from being destroyed along with their planet."_

_Spock almost lets his eyebrows raise in surprise. After the tense, almost-hostility between the two of them for the whole trip back to Earth, Captain Kirk was praising him? He praised the entire crew, too, a most interesting action. Spock had expected him to bask in the glory, welcome their praise. Instead, he had deferred the praise that everyone wanted to cast upon him and him alone._

_A hand settles on his arm, familiar in its weight and size. Spock turns to find Nyota standing with a hand on his arm, eyes warm and searching._

_"Spock," she says. "Come on. Let's leave Kirk to entertain the reporters." She shoots a mild scowl in Kirk's direction. "Stars know that he's good at entertaining people."_

_Spock briefly wonders why her words cause an unpleasant feeling in him, but by the time she finishes her sentence he stands in a different place. It's a hotel hallway, in one of the buildings commonly used to host important Starfleet personnel who don't have nearby places of their own._

_The design is classic and elegant, a beige carpet and white walls with scenic art in mahogany frames. One of the doors opens and Kirk steps out, closing the door quietly behind him. He looks surprised to see Spock in the hallway._

_"Hello," he says formally._

_"Greetings," Spock replies. "For what reason are you not in your room at this hour?"_

_"Couldn't sleep," Kirk says, shrugging. "Figured I'd go tire myself out in the gym, try and get more than an hour of sleep. Stars know I'll need it tomorrow, with all the briefings scheduled. Why're you up so late?"_

_"I found myself unable to sleep as well."_

_"Huh." Kirk looks at him oddly for a moment. "Go figure."_

_"Pardon?"_

_Kirk waves a hand and says, "Nothing, Spock." He pauses. "Hey, would you be up for sparring with me? The thought of a treadmill or a punching bag just isn't doing it for me."_

_Spock has nothing to do, so he acquiesces and follows Kirk down to the gym after changing into an athletic outfit. It is barren at such an hour, and Kirk chooses a mat in the far corner._

_They spar for hours, Kirk ending up underneath Spock with sweat slick skin every time. Kirk does not once seem discouraged, and they spar until Kirk complains that he doesn't know if he'll make it to the gym showers, much less back to his room. When Spock offers to carry him, Kirk laughs and pushes himself up with a groan._

_"No, Spock," he says. "That was a hyperbole. I think. Thanks for the offer though."_

_The world shifts, and Kirk changes but does not disappear. When the shifting stops and Spock's nausea abates, he is still in front of Spock, but laying flat on his back. He wears command gold, absurdly bright against the darkness of the underground cell they find themselves in. The gold is marred by blood across his abdomen, however._

_"Captain," Spock says, heart pounding._

_Humans are so fragile, so easy to break and harm. Captain Kirk looks unwell, his face pale and sweaty, eyes half shut. He trembles as if it is cold, but it is approximately the same temperature as the ship in their cell. A pool of scarlet under him is slowly spreading, and Spock is hiding his panic underneath a thin veneer of Vulcan control._

_"Captain," he says again, louder, when Kirk doesn't respond._

_"The... the least you could do... is to call me Jim." Kirk pants, breathing labored. "I'm bleeding out in... front of you and you... still won't call me by... name?"_

_"Jim," Spock says. "You must stay awake. I have contacted the ship and they will be here any moment, but you must stay alive until Doctor McCoy can reach you."_

_"Ha!" Jim wheezes out a laugh. "You finally... cracked. It seriously... took me bleeding out... for you to say my name?"_

_"Vulcans do not crack, Jim. Please focus on staying awake."_

_Jim's laugh, thin and weak but honest, echoes. The world spins, and when it rights itself, Spock is in Jim's quarters. They sit on opposite sides of a tri-d chess board, and Jim is grinning brightly at him._

_"I can't believe we've been working together so closely for three months and I only found out that you play chess yesterday," Jim complains jovially, moving a piece._

_"I was not aware that it could be useful information to you," Spock replies. "You did not strike me as the type of person who would play or enjoy chess."_

_The comment could be taken as an insult, but Jim only smiles._

_"Who taught you? While chess is very logical, it doesn't seem very Vulcan to teach their young Terran games."_

_"My mother taught me," Spock said quietly, and Jim's grin slips._

_"Ah," he says._

_The air has grown awkward, and Spock attempts to ease the conversation by asking, "Who taught you how to play?"_

_"I taught myself when I was in my early teens," Jim says. "I ended up with a lot of free time on my hands at one point."_

_"I see."_

_"I_ don't _see," Jim says testily, and Spock grows confused because Jim's mouth hasn't moved, "how the hell we ended up in this situation!"_

_Spock blinks and Jim's quarters disappear. He is crouched behind a boulder, able to see a forest behind them. Jim crouches next to him, scowling, covered in dirt, and holding a phaser._

_8"I mean, for the love of Bones' bourbon," Jim continues, "there wasn't even a single suggestion that there was sentient life down here, much less a rudimentary civilization!"_

_"Occasionally, errors are made in reports, Captain."_

_"Not a single suggestion!" Jim fumes. "That's more than an 'error,' Spock."_

_"I suppose. Do you have a plan?"_

_Jim looks over at him and grins. It is Spock's least favorite kind of grin. Jim wears a wide, toothy grin that is accompanied by a slightly maniac light in his eyes, which is normally followed up by a 'When do I not?' He then, generally, proceeds to enact a rather ridiculous plan with an average likelihood of a 64.3 percent chance that they will all be killed in the attempt._

_"When do I not?" Jim asks._

_Spock resists the urge to groan. He calculates a 43.72 percent chance that Jim will return from the mission critically wounded, based on past missions. Doctor McCoy will be upset and later scowl and yell at Spock for allowing Jim to enact his plan. Spock will respond in such a way that it will amuse Jim, but only further the doctor's ire and result in Spock being kicked out of sickbay._

_"Perhaps I should rephrase," Spock said quickly, before Jim could do something such as leap out from their hiding space. "Do you have a relatively sane plan?"_

_"That depends on you definition of sane," Jim said. "I hope yours is a loose one."_

_"I doubt that our definitions match," Spock said tersely. "Captain, what are you planning on doing?"_

_"Checkmating you, duh."_

_The scene shifts between blinks again. The hard rock behind him shifts to a plush chair. He is back in Jim's quarters, chess board between them again. It is a different night, a different game._

_"I believe you are lacking the word 'attempting.' You have not yet checkmated me," Spock says._

_Jim wiggles his eyebrows. "Not yet, no, but I'm coming for you."_

_"You have only won 47.36 percent of our games." Spock moves a piece. "I am statistically more likely to win our games."_

_"When have I ever complied with statistics?" Jim says._

_His grin is teasing, eyes bright. They almost seem to glow, and Spock thinks that he could stare at them for hours. If it were not so illogical, Spock would be tempted to say that he could drown in them, in those eyes that were as bright as a tropical sea. He thinks, for a fleeting moment, that it is a shame that his eyes are brown and not a captivating shade like Jim's. Perhaps if he were not dark and dark, if he had something bright, then Jim would pay more attention to him._

_"You very rarely comply with statistics," Spock eventually says, after remembering that he has been asked a question and therefore is expected to respond in a timely manner._

_"Hell yeah, I don't." Jim looks insufferably smug about that fact._

_"Aside from managing to discover solutions to incredibly difficult problems, you also have a knack for ending up injured or in trouble even when it is against all odds."_

_"That isn't true," Jim says, and then, sounding strained, "How's our ship?"_

_"Out of danger," Spock responds automatically, despite not understanding Jim's question. A sense of dread and horror begins to build in Spock's chest._

_Spock's visions flickers for a moment, to Jim's pale face trapped behind glass, and then back to their chess game. A moment, and then it flickers again but does not return to Jim's quarters._

_Spock is kneeling beside a radiation-filled chamber deep within engineering. His body is trembling finely, despite his attempts to control it. Jim rests on the other side of the glass, more slumped against it than anything else, as if he does not have the energy to hold himself up. He most likely does not._

_Jim's eyes are blue, too blue, as bright and electric and captivating as the warp core he's dying because of. The blue is only brightened by pain, and the blue fixes on him. Spock cannot look away._

_"I'm scared, Spock."_

_Spock does not want Jim to be scared. He wants Jim to smile and ruffle Chekov's hair and fence with Sulu and laugh when Leonard scowls at him over coffee in the mornings._

_"Help me not to be."_

_If he could, Spock would assure that Jim never felt pain or fear ever again, but Jim is hidden from him in plain sight. Jim is on the other side of an clear, immovable wall, eyes shining with tears that are so unlike him that they scare Spock._

_Spock blinks and it is no longer Jim behind the glass, but Doctor McCoy. He blinks again and engineering disappears, replaced by sickbay. McCoy stands by a biobed, tricorder in hand, with which he's scanning the skinny, filthy teenaged boy with bright blue eyes sitting on the biobed._

_"Spock, this is James," McCoy says. "James, this is Spock, the_ Enterprise's _first officer."_

_The blue eyes of the boy on the bed, the set of the jaw, the small scar on his right eyebrow..._

_"James as in our Captain?" Spock asks._

_"James Kirk," the boy says._

_Everything seems to freeze for a moment. A yawning hole of concern tears itself open in Spock's chest, and a wave of protectiveness comes barreling through it. The boy on the bed, starved and filthy, is his captain and his friend? The idea is barely comprehensible. Surely Jim could never have looked like that, so small and fragile, as if a stiff wind would knock him over and break him. The urge to protect Jim- his captain, his friend- is nearly overwhelming. Spock struggles to remain impassive._

_"I know, I looked pretty pathetic, right?"_

_Spock turns and finds his captain, radiant in his golden shirt and not a hair out of place. He smiles with too white teeth and his too blue eyes shine. A hand comes up to clap Spock on the shoulder._

_"You did not," Spock says._

_"No?"_

_"No."_

_Jim looks caught off guard, his brows furrowed just so in the way that they do when he is trying to figure out a challenging problem._

_"You looked fragile, and young," Spock says, "and you looked in need of protection, but you have never been pathetic."_

_Jim's eyes soften and his face seems to glow when he smiles. Spock feels a warmth throughout his whole body at the sight._

_"Thank you, Spock," he says._

_The lights go out suddenly, and Spock's surroundings are plunged into absoluteO darkness, but he swears he sees Jim's bright eyes linger longer than anything else, warm and glowing._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Happy Pi day! I hope you all enjoy this chapter, and as always, the next chapter should be up in nine days!


	16. Chapter 16

The next morning, when Jim staggered into the mess hall, yawning, he was immediately approached by Spock. While not being fully awake quite yet, Jim was aware that there was something different about Spock, something more.

"Good morning, Spock," Jim said, a little bit wary.

"Jim," Spock said, voice almost shaking in the subtle way that it did when he was elated. Jim's heart stuttered in his chest at the use of his name instead of 'Kirk' or 'Captain.' "Jim, I remembered you."

"You did?" Jim said breathlessly. His face broke into a wide grin and he resisted the unusual urge to pull Spock in for a hug. "Oh my stars, Spock, that's amazing!"

"I..." Here, Spock's tone shifted to one more somber. "I apologize for my cruelty towards you. You must know that I hold you in the highest regard and am thoroughly appalled by my treatment of you."

"Spock," Jim said, reaching out and laying a hand on Spock's shoulder. "It's okay, really. I know that you remembered me as some punk ass cadet who hated rules and authority. I knew that you weren't going to be friendly towards me."

"Even so-"

"No, Spock," Jim said, and smiled. "No regret. C'mon, let's have breakfast. You're back on duty today, science officer."

"Very well," Spock said.

Jim resisted the urge to burst into happy tears or run around the room whooping and hollering. He had Spock back. _He had Spock back!_

Well, partially, but partially was good enough for Jim. As long as there were no cruel comments or mistrustful glances, Jim was content. And there weren't any. While Jim and Spock ate, they chatted about different things, and not once did Spock say anything remotely rude or look at Jim as if he were scum. It was a glorious feeling.

"Do you plan to talk to Nyota soon?"

"Indeed. Tonight, if it is possible."

"Getting it over and done with, huh? Yeah, I get that," Jim said. "See, I found myself having nightmares on all or almost all of the nights that I didn't confess to people, I can't quite remember. It was definitely a motivator, let me tell you."

"I do not anticipate the disturbance of my rest," Spock said, sipping at his tea. "However, if I am able to inform Nyota today and my third person tomorrow, I will be reverted before we reach New Vulcan and will be spared any nightmares."

"Do you not know who your third person is?" Jim asked. "You didn't name them."

"I have an assumption, but I will need to meditate more to be certain of their identity."

"And despite not knowing who they are just yet, you think that you can talk to them in two days?" Jim asked. "I know how difficult it was for you to talk about everything to me."

"My plan is... a decidedly optimistic one," Spock said. "But I do not believe that it is unattainable."

"I believe in you." Jim smiled brightly, and Spock's eyes glittered in return.

Jim felt a swelling, joyous feeling grow in his chest. He had missed Spock more than he had thought possible. Jim had taken so many things for granted, and the return of even the simplest things was like a breath of fresh air. He would never, he promised himself, under appreciate Spock's friendship for him again.

"Your faith in me is appreciated," Spock said quietly.

"And well deserved. C'mon, let's get to the bridge."

Nyota was already at her station when Jim and Spock emerged on to the bridge; she gave Jim a subtle, questioning look as soon as she saw him. Jim grinned, and Nyota smiled back, his nonverbal statement understood perfectly.

"Welcome back to the bridge, Spock," Nyota said.

"Thank you, Lieutenant."

"Welcome back, Commander! I am wery glad to see you again," Chekov piped up, his young face positively beaming.

"I'm glad to see that you're better, sir," Sulu said.

"Your concern for my well being is appreciated," Spock said, addressing everyone.

The mood on the bridge was light and jovial, different from the time that Spock had not remembered Jim. He was even more comfortable in his chair, Jim noticed, his annoyance at having to fill in all the mundane reports that Spock usually covered highly diminished.

Jim had little time to think, trying to get as much work out of the way as he could. Still, the speed at which the shift seemed to pass was only partially due to the constant work. The majority of it was the sheer novelty of having Spock back on the bridge, and the lack of tension that his presence contributed to.

Spock did not accompany Jim to lunch, instead following Nyota. Jim could hardly find it in himself to be disappointed, still riding the high of having Spock not dislike him anymore. He was so happy, in fact, that he nearly forgot that he was supposed to have lunch with Kev, Juli, and Hannah.

"May I inquire as to your lunch today?" Spock asked after shift, once they were in the turbolift.

"Uh," Jim said, thinking of Spock's reaction to Hannah the previous night. "Sure."

"I do vaguely recall Ensign Santiago, and that she took care of you. I regret my words last night."

"I'll be sure to tell her that, if you'd like."

"That would be acceptable."

"Well," Jim said. "Lunch was fine. Kev got held up and couldn't make it, but I had a great lunch with Juli and Hannah. They even promised not to tell Bones when I got something that's ah... not quite a part of Bones' diet plan for me." He looked over at Spock. "You won't tell either, right?"

"I believe that you are capable of indulging from time to time without departing from Doctor McCoy's diet entirely," Spock said, which Jim knew was essentially an assurance that he wouldn't tell.

Jim grinned.

"You're awesome. Dinner tonight?"

"Regretfully, no," Spock said. "I plan on meditating, and confessing to Nyota this evening. My dinner hour will most likely be spent with her."

Jim tried his best to hide the sting of disappointment that he felt, and for the most part, he was successful. He gave Spock a smile.

"Of course. No nightmares tonight, huh?"

"Indeed."

When the turbolift doors slid open, they stepped out together and made the walk to their quarters in silence.

"Spock," Jim blurted when they reached their quarters and Spock went to enter his own. "If tonight doesn't go as planned and you don't get a chance to tell Nyota, or between now and when you tell your third person, or even after you're reverted- if you ever have any nightmares or anything, you know where to find me. I'd be happy to help you out anytime, whether that be talking about it or just sitting and drinking some tea together."

Spock just stared at him for a moment, as if puzzling something out. Jim shifted slightly on his feet, not liking the anxiety building in his chest at all.

"Thank you," Spock said quietly. "Your offer is... exceedingly kind and much appreciated."

"Of course," Jim replied. "You deserve kindness, especially now."

In a moment of epiphany, Jim realized just how sappy what he had just said was. The macho mask part of him curled up in a ball and tried to block out the embarrassment, but it was a futile effort. Jim reached out and patted Spock on the shoulder and hoped that his embarrassment wasn't obvious.

"I'll see you tomorrow," Jim said.

Before Spock could reply and cause him to say any more gushy, embarrassing things, Jim turned and fled to his quarters.

* * *

Spock did not meditate immediately after his shift. First, he made a cup of tea and sat by the window, looking out at the stars. He had several pillows nestled by the viewing port for this specific reason, and a small table to set his tea on.

One benefit to remembering Jim was remembering the fact that meditation failed to yield answers when Spock meditated on matters concerning Jim. He needed to take a uniquely human viewpoint, contemplating the matter while fully conscious and partially embracing his human side. That was one reason why he had loathed Jim at first- he had forced Spock to confront his humanity in order to understand Jim's complexities.

With his knees tucked under him and a cup of tea warming his hands, Spock took a deep, calming breath. The starlight washed over him in a welcome and newly familiar way. The previous night, he had recalled many evenings spent in this spot as he tried to understand Jim. No matter how far away from Earth and Vulcan-that-was, the view from warp remained captivating and uniquely similar.

An oxymoron- uniquely similar, as Jim seemed to be. He was a contradiction in motion, letting people think they understood him only to reveal a contrary fact that shattered the view of him, leaving them back at square one, again and again. It was a most frustrating, but fascinating, cycle that Spock had grown accustomed to.

Jim seemed to pride himself on his manliness, yet in his last interaction with Spock, he had acted entirely 'unmanly.' Spock believed that Doctor McCoy would call Jim's words 'sappy.' Being sappy was not, Spock believed, in Jim's nature. But perhaps this was the beginning of another return to square one in understanding the mystery that was Jim Kirk.

He had offered assistance with personal matters 'anytime,' mentioning a method of help that included drinking tea. Jim didn't often drink tea, and it left Spock wondering about Jim's intent. Could it possibly be flirting? Yet Jim had never been subtle about flirting- when he wanted someone, he made sure that they knew.

Mystery upon mystery, that's what Jim was.

There was no using logic to solve the mystery of Jim, though. There was no handbook, no course that Spock could take, none who could offer his advice except, perhaps, Doctor McCoy. Yet Spock did not believe that even Jim's closest friend knew enough about him to assist Spock.

Spock took a sip of his tea and continued to stare out the window, letting the motion of the stars calm him.

Far, far too soon he found that it was time to depart for dinner with Nyota. At first, he found himself full of apprehension. He took a breath and centered himself, then stood and recycled his unfinished cup of tea that had gone cold long ago. There was no reason to be nervous. Nyota was one of the first people that he had ever thought to perhaps consider a friend. She was kind, sympathetic, knowledgeable, and aware of how vulnerable and uncomfortable Spock would feel.

Had it been their t'hy'la bond that had made Spock's conversation with Jim so easy, even when he, personally, had little but hostile contact with Jim?"

That was a line of thought to be followed another day. Spock had a friend to talk to.

When Spock arrived at Nyota's quarters, he almost hesitated to buzz for entry. He had committed to telling Nyota tonight, though, and as pleasing as the thought of receding to Jim's room for a game of chess to soothe him was, it was not something that he could do. Spock pursed his lips slightly and pressed the button to buzz for entry.

When the door slid open, Nyota stood on the other side. She smiled gently at him and stood aside to allow home entry. Her room was warm, decorated in oranges and reds, and its similarities to his own room on Vulcan-that-was caught him by surprise.

"Spock," Nyota said. "How are you?"

"I am well," Spock replied. "And you?"

"I'm doing fine. How can I help you?"

"I... I have found myself at the point where I must confide in you. If this is not an appropriate time, I can return-"

"No, no," Nyota said, ushering him over to a small couch and coffee table. A colorful blanket in a pattern native to Nyota's ancestral region of Africa lay draped over the back of it. "I'm absolutely free, and there's nothing better I could think of doing than helping you."

Spock settled down next to her, accepting the tea she offered and clasping it between his hands. The warmth reminded him of terrace stones underneath his palms on Vulcan-that-was, and helped to ease his worries.

"I informed Jim early this morning, and recalled him afterwards when I slept," Spock began, not quite sure where he was going. "Once I inform you, I will be unable to inform my final person until I discover for certain who they are and develop our relationship to a point where I feel it possible to confide in them, if necessary. This will not be quick, and if Jim's experience is any example, on the nights that I do not 'confess,' I will suffer from nightmares."

"And you're concerned about the nightmares," Nyota said softly. "That's what had you avoiding sleep until you collapsed before we visited the ha'karr."

"I suppose I am," Spock murmured.

"Spock," Nyota whispered, and placed a gentle hand on his arm. "You don't have to suffer through your nightmares alone. Jim didn't have to, when he was reverted. He had you to talk to and confide in, and you can lean on him, too. He'd be more than happy to help. In fact, if Jim knew that you were having nightmares and not telling him, he'd feel awful for not somehow knowing and helping you without you asking him because he's absolutely ridiculous like that.

"There's no need to be apprehensive about telling me just because of the nightmares. We're here to help, Spock, all of us. Don't forget that."

Spock looked up and met Nyota's eyes, alright with warmth and concern.

"I will not," he said quietly. "...Thank you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! This chapter is just a little shorter than I had anticipated, but I hope you enjoy it anyways!


	17. Chapter 17

Spock began to speak after a long silence.

"My mother," he said quietly. "Was an exceptional creature. She left her home world, its people and its customs, to move- to her- to a strange planet inhabited by strange people with stranger customs. She left all that she had ever known behind to follow the man that she loved to a world where expressions of love were scorned, where she was deemed inferior due to her species and her emotions. For years, she stifled nearly everything about her, never thanked or given appreciation.

"My mother bore all of the disdain and prejudice with a high chin and an unapologetic attitude. She never once let anyone besides those closest to her know that any harsh words had ever affected her. She perfected her own emotional mask.

"I adored her. She was kind and sympathetic, but her morals never wavered. Me, she adored with all of her heart, and she ensured that I knew that even if the rest of the planet scorned me, she would love me unconditionally."

Spock felt hot, human tears begin to build behind his eyes and tried his best to blink them away. He failed, and one single tear spilled over to land in a hot droplet on his hand. His heart twisted painfully with grief, throat tight.

"I loved her unconditionally as well," he admitted. "And yet I never told her."

"I mourned the loss of my planet, of the culture and the devastating number of lives lost. Yet, my reasoning for beaming down to collect the High Council was truly nothing more than an excuse to save my mother. It was my mother that I missed above all else, her loss that tore into my katra deeper than I believed anything ever could.

"I mourned my planet, but I did not love it. I loved parts of it- the shallow caves in the nearby mountainsides that I-Chaya and I would sometimes retreat to after hard days; the garden that my mother cultivated, Terran and Vulcan, a hybrid as I am; the trail on the mountain that I-Chaya and I would follow and watch the sunset from during my teenage years, when my parents trusted me to return after dark despite the dangers...

"Those small things, though, could not make up for the hatred I was the target of each and every day simply due to my genetic makeup. I did not care for my planet, my schoolmates, but their destruction was needless and tragic. Despite the tragedy, I did not mourn for them. I mourned for my mother."

There was a heavy silence.

"Does that make me immoral?" Spock whispered.

"No," Nyota replied. "No, Spock, it doesn't. You aren't required to love someone or something that has always been cruel to you."

"Yet I am expected to," Spock said. "I was born and raised on Vulcan, among Vulcans, as a Vulcan. I am expected to mourn like one for all that has been lost."

"You were also expected to enter the VSA. No matter what you do, Spock, you will be scorned." Spock looked up and met her warm eyes, so like his mother's for a moment that it stole his breath. "Why try to live up to their expectations if they'll never truly accept you? Do what you think- what you feel- is right, and damn what the other Vulcans say. Us on the Enterprise, we're your family. We'll love you no matter what, because that's what family does."

Spock swallowed hard around the lump in his throat, unable to speak.

"Can I give you a hug?" Nyota said, voice shaking and eyes suddenly shining. "I think we both need one."

Spock just nodded, and Nyota nearly leapt at him, her arms winding around him. He dropped his head on to her shoulder and took deep breaths that shook as he tried not to cry.

"Please don't ever forget that we all love you," Nyota whispered. "You're not alone."

"I will not," Spock murmured. "Thank you, Nyota."

"Of course, Spock."

She pulled away and wiped at her eyes, then gave Spock a small, watery smile.

"Is that it?" Nyota asked. "No more confessions that are going to make me cry?"

"That is it," Spock confirmed. He stood and tucked hands that still trembled behind his back.

"Goodnight, then." Nyota smiled at him, eyes bright with affection. "Sleep well."

"Goodnight, Nyota," Spock said quietly.

When Spock returned to his quarters, he heard no movement on the other side. Jim was either asleep or not in his room at all, and neither situation allowed Spock to seek him out for...

Seek him out for what? The companionship that he had offered, a cup of tea or a game of chess? Perhaps merely for his presence. But that was an entirely inappropriate reason, as it was illogical to simply sit without reason and take comfort in the presence of another unless the two were bonded. Technically they were, of course, but Spock could not allow the bond to be completed.

Spock prepared for bed, temporarily lighting incense to help calm him and ready his mind for sleep. When he lay in bed, eyes shut and on the verge of sleep, he thought he heard the door to Jim's cabin slide open with its signature hiss, and let himself take comfort in Jim's nearness. Even if it could never be acted on, denying himself the feeling of pleasure when a person that he took comfort in happened to be near was illogical.

He kept his eyes shut, turned his thoughts away from such emotionally upsetting matters, and drifted off to sleep.

* * *

Jim returned to his room after meeting Bones for some drinks, steps a little unsteady. He had, perhaps, drunk a little more than he should have, but dammit he had been diagnosed as lovesick and pining by a real doctor, and informed that there was no medicinal cure. That was a diagnosis worthy or a drink or five.

The two of them had nursed drinks- well, Bones had nursed his two, anyways; Jim had torn through about six- and just talked. Jim didn't know whether or not Bones had allowed Jim to moan about the whole situation with Spock out of pity or something else, but he was grateful anyways.

It was killing him that now that he had realized his feelings for Spock, Spock was untouchable. Jim didn't think he'd ever wanted anything as badly as he wanted Spock, but due to Spock's amnesia and the general fact that Spock had never hinted at wanting a relationship with him, it seemed like Jim was fresh out of luck until Spock was reverted at the very least.

Jim flopped down on to his bed and groaned into his pillow. He began to replay his dream from the previous night, enjoying the bittersweetness of it. Maybe he was some sort of masochist, in a non sexual way. Replaying an impossible fantasy over and over, not caring how it hurt because it felt so good, too.

It was the sheer domesticity of it that killed him. Waking up in his parents' old room, redesigned to remind one of Vulcan; the giggles of children from downstairs; the smell of breakfast washing over him; the smell and feel of Spock in his arms and under his lips... Jim had never wanted anything like that before, but now he craved it more than he had ever thought possible.

It wasn't even sexual, not really. He would be more than content to just fall asleep next to Spock, and wake up in his arms. To curl up on the couch together after a long day, each just relaxing in the presence of the other. It was what he'd heard stories of his parents having that he wanted with Spock, and that both terrified and thrilled him in equal measures.

And then there was Amanda and Solek. The two children form his dream, part Vulcan and part Human, both beyond adorable. They weren't his, didn't even exist, and yet each thought of them brought a squeeze like thoughts of Kevin and the others had brought long ago. He had always thought that he'd be a terrible father, with the role model he'd had, but maybe...

Jim groaned into his pillow again, and prayed that when he eventually fell asleep, his dreams would be less distressing in the aftermath.

* * *

_There is a second year cadet in his Vulcan II class who catches his eye very quickly. She has skin like Michael's, and seems to have Michael's calm collectedness, too. The cadet, however, is very unlike Michael in that she- obviously- does not attempt to control her emotions as Vulcans do. Her hair is also longer and far less curly, and her wit sharp. Spock is fascinated when she actively participates in discussions despite this being the first class, and watches her leave with the only Orion cadet in Starfleet- Cadet Gaila Vro._

_The sunlight comes in through the open door that allows students to spill out on to the grounds like a wave of life. It glints in her hair, shining golden, and Spock finds himself captivated. She is unusual, and something about her tugs at something in Spock that demands more observation._

_"Professor Spock, sir?"_

_The voice is unfamiliar- perhaps one of the many cadets who did not speak in class. Although illogical, Spock has found that many students dislike speaking much during the first day of any class._

_Spock turns to face the cadet who had spoken but the world blurs, and when it becomes clear again it is the cadet who so fascinated him that stands before him._

_"My name is Cadet Uhura," she says, and nothing about her but the red uniform and her words suggests that she's not a professional. "I had a few questions about the relationship between modern Vulcan and Ancient Vulcan simple future tenses, if you wouldn't mind answering them?"_

_Spock is surprised that Cadet Uhura is interested enough in the Vulcan language to ask such things, when Ancient Vulcan is not even taught as a course. She must be a xenolinguistics student. Her similarity to his mother causes him, for some reason, to feel pleasure. After so long among humans who are nothing like the two he had grown up with, he has found one who seems to be a mix of the two humans he admires most._

_"Of course," Spock says. "What would you like to know?"_

_"Would you care to get a drink with me?"_

_That is... most definitely not related to simple future tenses in any language. Spock blinks. He would have thought that Cadet Uhura would be more sensible than to pursue a relationship with one of her own professors._

_"Cadet Uhura," Spock reminds her. "I am your professor. It would be against regulations for us to engage in a romantic relationship."_

_"You'll only be my professor for another nine days," Cadet Uhura points out. She does not seem deterred. "And then I'll be in my final semester here, and I won't have any of your classes. It won't be breaking regulations so long as you get a drink with me after classes end."_

_Spock pauses to consider this. Cadet Uhura is correct; it would technically not be breaking regulations so long as they enter a relationship after she is no longer his student. However, the bigger question remains. Does he want to be in a relationship with Nyota Uhura?_

_She is subjectively beautiful, with deep eyes and smooth skin. Despite Spock's recent experience with humans, she is remarkably logical, and not nearly as rambunctious as other humans. She is academically minded, with an appreciation for his culture and similar interests. Spock can foresee a fruitful relationship, if they were to foster one._

_"In eleven days, I am free from noon to thirteen-hundred. Would you be amenable to meeting me at Petit Trou during that time?"_

_Cadet Uhura's smile is radiant when she replies, "Of course." Spock knows that his father would disapprove, but he feels that his mother would be proud._

_The sound of a rainstorm begins, grows louder. Eventually it drowns out the words that Cadet Uhura is trying to speak, and seems almost to consume everything. Spock closes his eyes as if the action could protect him from the onslaught of sound, and when he opens his eyes he is no longer in his classroom._

_The two of them, Spock and Nyota, are sitting in a small French style cafe. Their table is inside, in less humid air, and outside the rain pours down and smacks against the pavement. Rain does not trail down the window next to their table, as it faces a covered outdoor section._

_"Your mother seems like a very brave person," Nyota says._

_"Why do you say that?" Spock asks._

_His mother has been called many things before, by many people, but Spock does not believe that anyone has ever called his mother brave._

_"Well, she left behind everything she'd ever known to follow the man that she loved to a planet that only really tolerates her because her husband is a very important person. I don't think I'd ever be able to do that, to let myself live in a place so full of dislike for me, even if the person I love was also there."_

_"I had not previously thought upon the matter in that manner," Spock says, taking a sip of his tea._

_"I have to admit I've thought about it quite a bit," Nyota says, flushing slightly. "Your mother was an idol of mine when I was younger. She's one of the main reasons that I pursued xenolinguistics."_

_"I am sure that my mother would be flattered to hear that." Spock replies. "I also believe that she would enjoy your company, were she to meet you."_

_"Really?"_

_"Vulcans do not lie."_

_Nyota smiles at him over the rim of her ceramic cup. The cup begins to grow larger, taking over Spock's vision until he can see nothing but white._

_Details then begin to appear, colors, as if the turbolift he now stands in is nothing but a very realistic drawing. Nyota stands in front of him, her eyes sorrowful. She reaches out and stops the turbolift, then returns to staring at him as if she can discover a cure for the ache in his katra if she stares long enough._

_"I'm sorry," she whispers, and then again, "I'm sorry." Her hands come up to cradle his face, her fingers petting his neck ever so gently. "I'm so sorry."_

_How illogical, the human behavior of apologizing for things that are not their fault. How odd that they think that it could possibly help. Perhaps it helps them, though, and it is with this in mind that Spock allows her to say such illogical things._

_Nyota leans forward and kisses him, but Spock does not kiss back, does not move. She kisses his cheek, and then a spot closer to his ear, before embracing him in a hug. Her hand is gentle when it pushes against the back of his head, encouraging him to place his head on her shoulder. He does so, and haltingly brings his hands up. One rests on her back, and the other on one of her arms. Spock raises his head again, the sides of their heads pressed together._

_"What do you need? Tell me." Nyota whispers, drawing back again and placing her hands back on the side of his face. "Tell me."_

_Spock turns his head away, and he can feel Nyota's heartbroken gaze follow him. The turbolift control panel shifts and morphs into a television screen, reporting the news. Around it, the turbolift begins to change shape until Spock sits on a couch in his Starfleet assigned quarters, watching the reports. Nyota sits next to him, her presence unobtrusive yet obvious._

_"I can't believe it," Nyota murmurs next to him. On screen is the interview that Spock had heard Captain Kirk giving upon their return, the one that Nyota had drawn Spock away from before its completion. "Why would he deflect the praise? That's not like him."_

_Spock recalls a conversation that he had with Captain Kirk about assisting in engineering, and replies, "Perhaps we do not know as much about him as we think that we do."_

_"You may have only recently met him, but I was in classes with him for three years," Nyota says, scowling at the television. "He loves attention, and is the least humble person I've ever met."_

_Spock reflects upon his experience with Captain Kirk in the past few weeks, as they journeyed back to Earth. He remembers having to hunt down the Captain to sign paperwork, only to find him covered in grease in a jefferies tube high above the floor in engineering, doing all that he could to assist the understaffed department. Spock had once entered the medical bay to speak to Doctor McCoy about replicator rations for medical equipment, only to find Captain Kirk talking quietly with a Vulcan woman who had been injured enough that she was still in sickbay. Spock had, as he was allowed into McCoy's office, heard Kirk speaking to her in nearly flawless Vulcan as he consoled her about the loss of her young son. Spock had previously been unaware that Kirk could speak Vulcan- he had not been in any of Spock's classes on the Vulcan language._

_"I believe that he keeps much hidden," Spock says._

_"Maybe," Nyota says. "But I think he leaves plenty out for all to observe."_

_There is the feeling of a hand on his cheek but no body, and Spock resists the urge to flinch. The room warps and twists around him, everything reshaping and reforming itself. Nyota stands in front of him in his quarters on the Enterprise, a hand in his cheek. She's smiling, her eyes bright. Behind her, there are dishes on the coffee table, the remains of a dinner date._

_"I had a lovely time, Spock," she says, and leans forward to kiss him softly. Spock allows her to do so, reciprocates, but cannot shake the vague sense of wrongness. Still, he tries his best to put it from his mind._

_"Same time next week, save any disasters?" Nyota asks teasingly when she pulls away._

_"Indeed," Spock says. "I had an enjoyable evening, Nyota." The words feel wrong, but again he ignores it._

_"So did I," Nyota says. "Goodnight, Spock."_

_"Goodnight, Nyota."_

_She pulls away from him and exits, sending him one last flirtatious look over her shoulder. As soon as the door hisses shut behind her, leaving Spock alone in the dim, candlelit room, a gentle hand lands on his shoulder. Spock turns to find Nyota, in uniform and with a very familiar necklace around her neck._

_"I think you should have this back," she says, clearly somewhat uncomfortable. Her hands rise to the necklace as she begins to take it off. "After all, it belonged to your mother."_

_"It is not in the Vulcan custom to receive again that which was given as a gift," Spock replies._

_She stalls, hands still on the necklace, and as her hands drop she leans in and kisses him on the cheek. The world narrows to the feeling of her lips on his cheek, vision and hearing and all other physical sensations fading, and then the feeling of her lips fades, too._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I hope you enjoy this chapter, and happy Easter to anyone who celebrates it! The next chapter should be up nine days from now, but the chapter after that will be late because I'll be on vacation in Europe.


	18. Chapter 18

When Spock blinked awake the next morning, it was with a feeling of both excitement and trepidation. Now that he remembered Nyota, he had recalled two of his three people. His third person, however, wouldn't be easy to confess to. Based on all that Spock had yet recalled, and the emotions that he had sensed from his bond with his third person, he believed that Leonard McCoy would be the last person that Spock had to confess to.

The thought of confessing to McCoy was repulsive. McCoy seemed to have little respect for Spock, and had been part of the reason for Spock's previous lack of control. Yet somehow, the ship's CMO had become important enough to Spock that he warranted being told of Spock's turmoil alongside Spock's t'hy'la and first real friend. How could that possibly have happened? The man was irritable and the height of illogic, needlessly acerbic and gruff.

Perhaps Jim or Nyota could supply him with some 'citations' of Doctor McCoy. They had certainly helped ease his confession to Jim. Once Spock was prepared for the day and had meditated, he used the spare moments before reporting to the mess hall for breakfast to message both Nyota and Jim.

_To: Lieutenant Nyota Uhura_   
_From: Commander Spock_   
_Nyota, I am pleased to inform you that after our conversation last night, I have recalled memories of you. I now only need to confide in one more person._

Nyota responded with a smiley face emoticon halfway through Spock's composition of his next message. Spock let himself feel a little bit of happiness at Nyota's joyous response.

_To: Lieutenant Nyota Uhura, Captain James T. Kirk_   
_From: Commander Spock_   
_I currently only have one more person to confide in. However, I believe that I will need citations of their character like those provided to me about the Captain in order for me to confide in them. Would the two of you perhaps assemble some? I do not need nearly as many as were provided concerning the Captain. You are both most likely busy, and perhaps ten will do adequately._

Both Nyota and Jim responded immediately.

_To: Captain James T. Kirk, Commander Spock_   
_From: Lieutenant Nyota Uhura_   
_Of course, Spock, I'd be delighted to! Composing the last series of citations was truly fascinating. Who would the citations be about?_

_To: Lieutenant Nyota Uhura, Commander Spock_   
_From: Captain James T. Kirk_   
_Sure thing, Spock! I don't know how much help I'd be, though, since I didn't have any involvement in the making of the last one. Who's it about?_

_To: Lieutenant Nyota Uhura, Captain James T. Kirk_   
_From: Commander Spock_   
_My third and final person is Doctor Leonard McCoy._

_To: Captain James T. Kirk, Commander Spock_   
_From: Lieutenant Nyota Uhura_   
_Oh my stars, really? Alright, I can do that. I can have it for you tomorrow at lunch, if our Captain will let me take a half shift today?_

_To: Lieutenant Nyota Uhura, Commander Spock  
From: Captain James T. Kirk  
Ah, so _ that's _why you wanted my help. Gotcha._

_To: Lieutenant Nyota Uhura, Commander Spock_   
_From: Captain James T. Kirk_   
_The Captain says yes to the half shift._

_To: Lieutenant Nyota Uhura, Captain James T. Kirk_   
_From: Commander Spock_   
_Your assistance is much appreciated._

_To: Lieutenant Nyota Uhura, Commander Spock_   
_From: Captain James T. Kirk_   
_Any time, Spock._

_To: Captain James T. Kirk, Commander Spock_   
_From: Lieutenant Nyota Uhura_   
_Of course. We're happy to help._

Spock set his PADD on his desk and departed for the mess hall, a warm feeling in his side. He could not have hoped for a more positive reaction from the two of them.

Jim was already there when Spock arrived in the mess hall, and waved him over with a bright grin. Spock hesitated for only a moment when he saw that Jim was seated with Doctor McCoy. When he sat, McCoy gave him no more than a slightly wary glance before returning to his breakfast.

"So I hear last night went pretty well?" Jim said jovially, sipping at his coffee.

"Indeed. I have only one more confession to make, and I may be reverted before we reach the colony."

"That would be a pleasant surprise," Jim said. "I'm sure that your father would be relieved to see you in a better mental place."

"Relief is an emotion, Jim," McCoy drawled. "Vulcans don't feel those, apparently. Remember?"

"Don't be rude," Jim said lightly. "Just because Sarek scares the crap out of you doesn't mean that he scares all of us."

"I have found many members of many species to be intimidated by my father," Spock said curiously. "Are you not among them?"

"I mean sure, the first time I met him after-" Jim waved his hands aimlessly as if he were struggling for words.

"I recall the incident," Spock said. "Please continue."

"The first time I met him after... that... I was terrified. I figured he would go super Vulcan on me and suus-manha my ass into another galaxy for doing what I did. Except he didn't, and I realized that under the Russian nesting doll of facades the guy wears, he's not actually all that scary."

"A Russian nesting doll of facades?" McCoy said incredulously. "That's your best metaphor?"

"Like you could do better," Jim said, flicking a piece of rice from his breakfast burrito at his friend.

"If I cared enough to put effort into it, I probably could," McCoy muttered, sweeping the grain of rice off of his shoulder. "Also, stop throwing your food, you giant child."

"So nice," Jim sighed. "So, Bones, how are you guys going to help out when you get to the colony?"

"I've been communicating with the people in charge of the medical system there. My team and I will be working at the small clinics, for bumps and bruises and the like. That leaves more Vulcans free to tend to more serious issues, like mental stuff and other private things that us inferior humans aren't allowed to know about." McCy scowled into his coffee. "They're not even lettin' Geoff do more than skinned knees, and he studied Vulcan medicine on Vulcan!"

"This irritates you?" Spock asked.

McCoy shifted the focus of his glower from his coffee to Spock.

"Of course it irritates me! They're not lettin' us help! We're highly trained, professional doctors and nurses and we're fixin' up bumps and bruises! Just because they're Vulcan doesn't mean that we're incapable of actually helping them."

McCoy set his empty cup down on his tray with quite some force and then stood, tray in hand. His brows were still furrowed in anger.

"I should get going," he said.

Spock was aware that McCoy still had fifteen minutes before he needed to leave. He opened his mouth to address this, but Jim met Spock's eyes and shook his head. Spock shut his mouth.

"Bye, Bones," Jim said, waving.

"Good day, Doctor McCoy," Spock said, not wanting to seem rude.

Jim looked at him oddly for a moment, and then said, "Tell me about that interaction."

"Pardon?"

"Analyze that interaction for me. Why we all said what we said, body language, stuff like that."

"Doctor McCoy did not seem pleased with my presence," he began.

"Why?"

"I-" Spock paused, and continued in a quiet tone. "I assume that he is, perhaps, afraid of me after I attacked him."

"Nope," Jim said easily, spearing a bite of his pancakes. "The two of you really hated each other at first. He's worried that since you don't remember him, you'll be as mean to him as you think you should be, and that he'll respond too harshly and damage your relationship once you revert back."

Spock blinked, mouth opened slightly. Jim grinned wide and took another bite of pancake.

"Go on," he prompted.

"You addressed my confession to Nyota, and-"

"Why would I do that?"

Spock breathed heavily, although it was not quite a sigh. "I am not you."

"No, but you're going to have to learn to analyze underlying meanings and intentions if you're going to be able to get through to Bones."

"You believe that this will help my confession?"

"I do. Now, why would I have said what I did?"

"Perhaps to open up the line of conversation concerning my reversion with Doctor McCoy?"

"Bingo." Jim's grin was blinding, and Spock felt the warmth of praise bloom in his side. "Then?"

"I replied, saying that I may be reverted before we reach the colony." He waited a moment before continuing, in case Jim wanted to interject again. "You then suggested that my father would be relieved to see me in good health."

"And why would I say that?"

"I do not know how mentioning my father in the conversation would help," Spock confessed.

"More specifically, I mentioned your father feeling. Bones is a very heart-driven person, very emotion-centered. It does help, somewhat, when I mention that Vulcans do indeed have feelings. He's less rude, generally, when he remembers that they may not show it, but he can still hurt a Vulcan's feelings."

"Yet he responded sarcastically and in a way that implied that we do not experience emotion."

"The thing about Bones... he uses his sarcasm like a shield, when he gets awkward in a conversation because it's getting deep in a space that's too public."

"For what reasons would he feel awkward?"

"To be honest, I'm not sure. I know him well, but I don't know everything. Go on, though."

"You then told Doctor McCoy not to be rude."

"Why?"

"To subtly bring to his attention the fact that he should be kinder?"

"Exactly!"

"I then asked if you were intimidated by my father. You replied by saying that you were scared of him at first, but later realized that he was not truly scary. When mentioning your first interaction with him, you resorted to hand gestures."

"Yeah... I still have a lot of difficult talking about that. I really am ashamed of my actions."

"You and Doctor McCoy then debated over your choice of metaphor for my father, and you flicked a piece of rice at Doctor McCoy."

"Why would I do that? Both debating and throwing rice."

"I have noticed that upon finding oneself in an awkward social situation, humans have a tendency to use humor to ease the awkwardness. Was that your goal?"

"It was," Jim said. "You're doing great, Sherlock. Keep going, you're almost done."

"You asked how Doctor McCoy and his team would assist the colony," Spock said. "Doctor McCoy then began a rant about how he and his team were not going to be utilized appropriately. When I spoke, his ire seemed to increase."

"What do you deduct from his ranting?"

"He desires to help," Spock said, "but he feels that he is not being put in a position to truly help others."

"Good," Jim said, smiling wide. "Very good. He also feels under-appreciated and kinda of snubbed by the people in charge. He knows that Vulcans tend to look down on humans due to our emotionalism, and he's incredibly sensitive about discrimination."

Spock thought upon all that he had learned about Doctor McCoy. They were more alike than Spock would have ever thought, it seemed. Perhaps after reading some citations, confessing to Doctor McCoy would not be half as hard as Spock had initially thought it would be.

"Thank you, Jim," Spock said. "This conversation has been most enlightening."

"I'm glad to help," Jim said. "Why don't you have a conversation with Bones after your shift today, just to get more used to talking to him? I can help out more afterwards, if you think you could've had a better conversation or if you feel that you weren't understanding him."

"Your idea has much merit," Spock said, nodding. "I am most gratified that you and Nyota are assisting me in this process."

"Well, we know that without some assistance this would take forever," Jim said, laughing. "Our true goal is saving the sanity of everyone on board."

"Still," Spock said. "I extend my thanks."

"Of course, Spock," Jim said, more serious now. "Come on, let's get going. We do still have to work today."

"Indeed, Captain."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I hope you all enjoyed this chapter! I'm leaving for Europe in only a couple of days, and the next update happens to be scheduled for a day when I'm in Europe. I probably won't have much internet access, though, so I won't be updating while on vacation. The next chapter will be a little late because of this, but I'll try to update as soon as I get back!


	19. Chapter 19

After shift, Spock traveled down to sickbay in search of Doctor McCoy. When the doors hissed open, Spock stepped inside and looked around. Doctor McCoy was not immediately visible, but Doctor M'Benga was emerging from the CMO's office, PADD in hand. He stopped when he caught sight of Spock, obviously surprised.

"Commander," he said. "How can I help you?"

"I am looking for Doctor McCoy."

M'Benga raised his eyebrows and then, as if he wasn't sure that it was a good idea, said, "He's in his office."

"Thank you."

"No problem," M'Benga said.

Spock buzzed for entry, and after a moment the door slid open. Doctor McCoy sat at his desk, eyebrows raised. The desk in front of him was littered with PADDs, all in stacks of different heights.

"Can I help you?" McCoy asked.

"I wish to ease our social friction," Spock said, wasting no time with trivialities. "I have been informed that the best way to do so is to engage in conversation with you."

"By who?" McCoy asked, eyes narrowing.

Spock resisted the urge to correct McCoy's grammar. It would only serve to irritate the man, which was precisely the opposite of what Spock wished to do.

"The Captain suggested this course of action."

"Of course he did," McCoy muttered, and gestured to the chair in front of his desk.

Spock took a seat, and for a moment McCoy just stared at him. Them he began to laugh quietly, shaking his head. Spock's eyebrows twitches upwards in confusion.

"Doctor? What is amusing?"

"Just... I've had both you and Jim sittin' in that chair during your reversions to talk with me. Granted, you're here for a far different reason than Jim, but still."

"For what reason was Jim here?"

The joviality on McCoy's face vanished, and for a moment Spock feared that he had said the wrong thing and had greatly upset the doctor.

"Not to trivialize what you're strugglin' with," he began. "But Jimmy's amnesia event was... well, it was certainly traumatic enough to warrant the amnesia. He was young, too, far younger than you. I figured that therapy would ease the process of his reversion, help him to trust adults more. So that's what we did. Once a day, after breakfast, he'd come to my office for a therapy session."

"The Captain was traumatized enough to require therapy?"

McCoy did not seem confrontational yet, and Spock wondered if it was because of the topic of conversation. Jim had not told Spock to use him as a conversation topic, but it seemed to be working anyways.

"Hell yes," McCoy said. "What he went through was horrifying. We couldn't even call him Jim, because using our name for our friend to address that traumatized child was just... almost unthinkable. We called him James, tried to distance Jim from what he'd been so we wouldn't end up a bit traumatized ourselves."

"If I may ask, what event could have been so traumatizing?"

McCoy scowled and shook his head.

"That ain't my business to tell. Ask Jim, if you really wanna know."

"Of course. My apologies."

McCoy looked at him strangely, as if scrutinizing him. Spock sat up a bit straighter.

"You never apologize," he finally said. "Not to me, you don't. What's goin' on?"

"I do not wish for us to argue." That was true, of course, but McCoy would want a reason, and Spock wasn't about to tell him that McCoy was his third person. "It causes Jim distress. It is only logical to minimize the distress of the captain of this vessel." There, a perfectly acceptable and true statement.

"Huh," McCoy said, leaning back in his seat. "Alright. I suppose I see where you're comin' from. Jim's not used to havin' two people that he cares about really arguin' with each other. The first time around, he hardly knew you."

"Indeed. It is my goal to ensure that Jim's distress remains as low as possible."

"Well," McCoy said. "If you're here to talk, d'you want a drink?"

"No, thank you," Spock replied. "However, your offer is appreciated."

"I think this is probably the most civil conversation we've ever had," McCoy said contemplatively. "If you don't count us working together to revert Jim back, and that time on Altamid that doesn't count 'cause you were a little loopy from blood loss."

"Perhaps you are finally 'seeing the light,' as I believe humans commonly say."

McCoy raised his eyebrows, and Spock felt a small thrill. Perhaps this was why their antagonistic relationship had continued for so long.

"Or maybe _you're_ seein' the light."

"I do not believe so. Logic is the road to enlightenment."

"Except people will abandon logic, but no non-Vulcans ever go 'gee, I think I'll abandon expression of emotion to live a life of pure logic!'"

McCoy's tone was heated, but Spock did as Jim said and analyzed McCoy. There was no hostility in McCoy's body language, and his eyebrows were furrowed but his eyes themselves showed no anger.

"So far as you know," Spock replied, making sure to keep his tone cool.

"Yes, so far as I know. Yet I do know that there are multiple examples of people abandoning Vulcan society and logic to go be emotional, and none that I'm aware of where people willingly join that cult that you call a race!"

"Could you perhaps cite an example?"

"Well, I don't know the name of the group because it ain't in Standard, but there's this group led by a guy named... Sebak? Sorbet? Oh, Sybok!"

Spock felt a wash of cold sweep across his body and went very, very still. McCoy seemed to notice this, and raised an eyebrow.

"What, is he an old enemy of yours or something?" McCoy seemed to find his own statement funny, and laughed.

"We were once acquainted," Spock said stiffly.

"'Once acquainted,'" McCoy muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. "That could mean just about anythin', Spock."

Spock was about to retort that he had been purposefully vague as the matter was personal, but was prevented from doing so by the beep of McCoy's comm.

"Yes?" McCoy asked, picking it up.

"Incoming accident from engineering," a breathless voice on the other end said. "One critical injury, four burn victims."

McCoy cursed, and Spock raised eyebrows at the impressive blue streak.

"Understood," McCoy snapped, and leapt from his desk.

Within a moment he was in the main sickbay, barking orders at whoever happened to be closest. The medical jargon came rapid fire in such a heavy accent that Spock wondered how his staff ever managed to understand him in emergencies, much like Lieutenant-Commander Scott and his engineering team.

Spock stood, too, and left before McCoy could pull him into the chaos.

* * *

Jim was working on reports in his quarters when someone buzzed for entry. He looked up, and before allowing entry, made sure that he was properly dressed. While Jim wasn't wearing his gold shirt, he had the rest of his uniform on. Perfectly acceptable for any visitors.

"Enter," he called.

Nyota stepped in to his quarters, PADD and small black device in hand. She held it up and wiggled it once she made eye contact, and Jim eyed it warily.

"What's that?"

"A recording device," Nyota said simply. "Did you think I'd let you get away without giving any stories about your own best friend?"

"I suppose not," Jim said, sighing. "Alright. Do you want to do this now?"

"That is why I'm here," Nyota said. "Unless you have something planned."

"Nope," Jim said, gesturing to Spock's usual chair. "Have a seat."

The chess set was still there, and Jim relocated it to the corner of his little-used desk. He was careful not to move any of the pieces, and when he returned Nyota was already in the chair, recording device and PADD laid neatly on the table.

"How many citations do you want?" Jim asked. "I could give these all day."

"I know you could," Nyota said dryly, "but let's go with three to five. I do have other people to harass, too."

"Only three to five?" Jim asked. "Yikes."

Nyota rolled her eyes, but her smiling lips betrayed her as she gestured to the little black device.

"Just start talking, Jim. I can clean it up afterwards."

"Your wish is my command, my lady," Jim said, doing an exaggerated bow from his seated position and nearly smacking his head on the table. That got a laugh from Nyota, and he looked up with a bright, triumphant grin before beginning to speak.

Over an hour later, Nyota was gone and Jim was sitting on the couch drinking a cup of herbal tea that Spock had once recommended to soothe his throat, which was a bit sore from talking so much. He was contemplating getting in to pajamas and just going to bed, as his eyes were growing a bit heavy, when the door buzzed again for entry.

"Enter," Jim said, and took another sip of his tea.

It was Spock who stepped over the threshold this time, hands tucked behind his back and face as impassive as ever. Jim smiled and set down his mug, then tucked his legs under him to make room for Spock on the couch.

"Hey, Spock!" he said. "Come on and sit. Did you talk to Bones?"

"I did," Spock said. "Our conversation was pleasant until it neared the end, but was interrupted by a minor medical emergency before it could degrade to hostility."

"Oh, that's good. I'm sure I'll hear about the emergency tomorrow at breakfast, in great, gruesome detail."

"For what reasons would McCoy share 'gruesome' details of the emergency with you during a time for eating?"

Jim grinned widely, and observed the tiniest tip of Spock's head that meant he was wary.

"Well, back at the Academy, Bones noticed that I ate a lot, and no matter what was going on around me. There was one time at a bar that a guy in a fight keeled over right next to me, spitting up blood and puking, the whole nine yards, and I just kept eating like nothing was wrong. So Bones made it his mission to tell or show me something so gruesome that I'd lose my appetite."

"I assume by his continued attempts that he has not succeeded?"

"Nope," Jim said happily. "There are some things you go through that give you a real iron stomach. Bones just didn't know about that yet."

"What event could possibly have the outcome of preventing you from ever losing your appetite?"

Jim tipped his head, and looked at Spock. If Spock remembered Jim, shouldn't he logically remember that Jim had been on Tarsus as well? But then, Jim had been told that he hadn't remembered everything about people during his reversion, just a lot of things. Maybe it was the same with Spock, and he just hadn't remembered that Jim had been on Tarsus.

So Spock didn't remember that Jim had been on Tarsus, fine. Should he tell him? It seemed like an intimate thing, though, maybe too intimate for their current relationship. However, he didn't need to say it like it was something important. He could toss the name out nonchalantly, shrug like it was no big deal and move the conversation on. Maybe Spock wouldn't push, wouldn't feel comfortable pushing with their relationship being so weird.

Before he could truly commit to one course of action over the other, he found his mouth deciding for him.

"Tarsus IV," Jim said, and followed it up with a shrug as quickly as he could.

"The colony that suffered a crop failure, whose eugenics-minded leader decided that the best course of action was to slaughter half of the population?" Spock asked, clearly surprised.

"That's the one," Jim said. "It was a while ago, though."

"Yet it was the event that necessitated your amnesia."

"I mean, yeah," Jim said, shifting. "But thanks to the amnesia, I'm not... I'm a lot better about dealing with what happened."

"I surmise that you were not one of those that he chose to save," Spock said quietly. "Am I correct?"

"No, actually. Kodos was a madman, but he wasn't stupid enough to kill George Kirk's son. I was saved. When I tried to save people who hadn't made the cut, though, Kodos decided that I could join them on the kill list." Jim grinned, all teeth. "I was a pain in his ass."

"I would expect nothing less," Spock said simply.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Jim asked, curious.

"It means that I do not expect that you would ever be killed without resisting until you could no longer physically resist."

"Well," Jim said, and yawned widely, suddenly tired. "You're not wrong."

"You are fatigued," Spock said, and stood. "I bid you a good night, Jim."

"You too, Spock," Jim said. "Remember- if you need me, I'm available. Don't hesitate because you think I'm asleep, or even if you know I am."

"I will keep that in mind," Spock said, and departed.

Jim sighed and rubbed at his eyes. When he stood, he took his mug with him and put it in the recycler. He scratched idly at his stomach as he wandered to the bathroom.

It was odd, he reflected, how much and yet how little the ha'karr's gift had changed him. He wasn't too different, not really, and yet... Without the ha'karr's gift, he would never have confessed to Spock about Tarsus IV, particularly not in such a nonchalant way. He would have hid behind big words and blusters, clung to the secret until it began to destroy him from the inside, ever wary.

It still hit him sometimes, after saying or doing something that he would never have done before his reversion, just how much the ha'karr's gift had helped. He was no longer bitter about the gift, but in fact found himself increasingly grateful.

Maybe, once Spock was reverted and Jim could forgive the ha'karr for hurting Spock, even unintentionally, Jim would thank her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I'm back from Europe, and although it was an absolutely amazing experience, it feels so good to be home. It's three (four?) days late, but I hope that you all enjoy it! The next chapter will be up on my previous schedule, so in five or six days instead of nine. :)


	20. Chapter 20

_Spock sits in his office from when he taught at the Academy, sunlight slanting through the blinds and on to the floor in neat lines. It is late afternoon based on the position of the sunlight. Beyond his door lies the hallways that would normally be bustling with students or staff, but not a single set of footsteps can be heard. The unusual quiet sets Spock on edge, and he is careful not to make much noise, as if that will ease the illogical anxiety and growing sense of wariness that he has._

_There is a flicker beyond the blinds on the wall to his right, which looks out on to a small courtyard. Perhaps it is the movement of a person, but Spock does not hear any footsteps. Slowly, so as to ensure that he is as quiet as possible, Spock stands and moves to the window. He does not stand directly in front of the window, but off to the side, and uses his fingers to separate two parts of the blind just enough to see what is outside._

_Beyond the window lays not the courtyard that should be there, but what resembles a small, contained desert. Red sand and various bushes fill the courtyard instead of manicured grass and shading trees. There is no person that Spock can see in the courtyard, and the continuing eerie silence begins to grow oppressive._

_"Spock," someone whispers._

_Spock does not jump, but it is a close thing. He does whirl around at quite an impressive speed, though, to face the inside of his office once more. No one is there, but the phantom echo of warm breath tingles the back of his neck. Dust mites swirl in the light, disturbed by his rapid movement._

_The desk, previously standard Starfleet-issue for instructors, and the accompanying plain black chair, are different. Instead of plain laminate like dark wood, his desk is now real oak, light colored and sturdy-looking despite its antiquity. The chair behind it is tall-backed and a beige paisley design that Spock would perhaps wrinkle his nose at if he were fully human. He approaches slowly, and when he reaches it he notices the smell of spice that lingers on and around the new furniture._

_The olfactory sense is linked strongly to memory, Spock recalls too late. He is bombarded with memories of this desk and this chair. Sneaking in after dinner for one of the small candies hidden in the bottom right drawer, which his father never let him have; playing hide and seek, once, and choosing to curl up under the desk and pull the chair in, making himself as small and hidden as he could; silently sorting through and organizing the papers on the desk on some mornings, when his mother would fall asleep halfway through her work in the dead of night; constantly seeing the hideous chair that his mother so loved in every message recorded from this desk and sent to him while he was attending and teaching at the Academy. Spock takes a deep breath through his mouth and quickly steps away from the desk and chair, his hands shaking slightly._

_He returns to the window, hardly able to look at the desk and chair. When he peers outside, the desert has changed. There are several small flower bushes, identifiable as roses upon further inspection. Despite the desert environment they are flourishing, petals vibrant and nearly the shade of rubies. They are fitting against the red sand._

_The console on the desk lights up and chirps cheerily to alert him of a recorded message that has been sent to him. Spock turns from the window and returns to the desk, unsettled by the constant changing. The background photo is old, but it was always his mother's favorite and so it remained her computer's background until..._

_It is a family picture, taken on a vacation to his mother's home in Washington when Spock was young. Sarek stands solemn by his mother's side, in Vulcan robes with his hands tucked behind his back and head held high. His mother is a contrast, smiling bright with her hair down. She wears traditionally human clothing, a pair of jeans and an graphic T-shirt with the symbol of the old American institution, NASA. Spock is in her arms, sat upon her hip, and is staring at the camera with a very serious and intense gaze for a child of only one year. Michael stands in front of Amanda, hands folded in front of her and spine straight, already attempting to imitate Sarek. Her attire, a pair of jeans and a pink shirt, is at odds to her stony complexion. Sybok stands in front of Sarek, the complete opposite of Michael. He wears Vulcan robes, but his posture is slightly slouched and he smiles at the camera, just like Amanda._

_The icon beeps again, the tiny antique envelope blinking. It is the only thing in the room that is not entirely still, including Spock. A foreboding feeling growing in his chest, Spock slowly moves towards the chair and sat down. It is plush to the point of being uncomfortable, but Spock is hardly focused on comfort. He hesitates, then clicks on the small icon. The message expands, taking up the whole screen._

_It is his mother's face that fills his screen, a gentle smile on her face, and Spock feels almost as if he has been stabbed. He resists the urge to spread and clench his hands, as he had once done as a young child to control his emotions. On the screen, his mother tips her head as if considering her words, and then begins to speak._

_"Spock," she says, and at the sound of her voice he realizes how he has almost forgotten the soft lilt of it. "Oh, Spock," she says, tone quiet and sad. "I was so proud of you."_

_Spock's heart stutters in his side, a strange coldness settling over him. Was? Hadn't she once told him that she'd be proud of him, no matter what?_

_"Mother?" Spock asks quietly. He knows that it's a recording and that his mother can't hear him, much less respond, but he can't keep himself from speaking._

_"Yes," his mother says, and then, almost mockingly, "Was I so unimportant to you that you can't recognize me?"_

_"No," Spock rasps. "Of course not."_

_His mother hums as if she doesn't believe him, and Spock finds himself with the overwhelming urge to cry, something he has not done since Jim's death and before that, not since he was four. As if she can read his thoughts, his mother smiles, cold and sharp and unlike anything Spock has ever seen of her._

_"Spock," she says gently, as if she's speaking to a small child. "You do understand why I'm not proud of you anymore, right?"_

His hands around Jim's throat, squeezing, squeezing, squeezing-

_Spock's breathing begins to come heavier, his heart slamming in a frantic beat. He wants to close his eyes to block out the look of sorrow in his mother's eyes but he can't because then she'd know his shame and his guilt and he cannot let her know, he cannot let anyone know._

Punch after punch lands on Jim's face, splitting skin and crunching cartilage-

_Spock shoves his chair back and stands, gasping as he tries to maintain control. His hands open and close uselessly at his sides as he nearly staggers to the window. When he looks out, careless with his separation of the blinds, there is more Terran life in the Vulcan desert. Roses are accompanied by some desert wildflowers, one of many variations that his mother planted in the garden she had on Vulcan-that-was._

_He cannot escape his mother's flowers or the words that float from the console on the desk. For a moment, Spock wonders why had ever wanted the end of the silence that used to hang over the room. Oppressive silence would be better than the words he cannot ignore._

_"You attacked your t'hy'la," his mother says, disappointment oozing from her words. "You attacked him twice. What kind of mother could be proud of a son who tried to murder his soulmate, much less one who tried to murder him more than once?"_

_Spock sinks down in front of the window, trembling all over. It is a position learned very young, when Vulcan children are just beginning to learn how to meditate. He squeezes his eyes shut but that leaves nothing to distract him from his mother's words, and so he opens them again._

_"When your father insisted that you be bonded to T'Pring, I resisted. I knew you'd find your t'hy'la, and I told your father as much. It's a shame that T'Pring didn't survive. You ruined any chance you had with your Captain long ago, Spock. She would have made a nice alternative. Instead you try to supplement your t'hy'la with a woman who reminds you of Michael and I because she seems familiar and safe? You could have just come home. You weren't cut out for Starfleet, Spock. Not really."_

_His mother speaks all of his deepest fears and doubts as if she has a script, and Spock begins to shudder, eyes welling up with too hot, too human tears. Before his eyes, cacti sprout in the garden. He thinks they're cacti, anyways, but he can distinguish little more than blurry green shapes. A shadow flickers in front of the window again, and Spock jolts to his feet, stumbling backwards._

_Once he regains his balance, he pulls open the blinds fully, allowing sunlight to flood the room. Behind him, his mother continues to speak. From each side of the window, a child steps out. The shadows. Michael steps in from the right, Sybok from the left. They both look as they did in the family photo, except Sybok is somber instead of smiling._

_"She always liked us better anyways," they say in harmony._

_The floor drops out from under Spock, and he falls_

but arms caught him and he gasped awake, eyes flying open to find himself only inches away from Jim's face. Jim's eyes were bright and wide with concern, arms cradling Spock. The two of them were on the floor, and based on the temperature, in Jim's quarters.

"Spock," Jim whispered, a feared awe creeping through their skin contact.

_Just like how mother felt before the cliff collapsed beneath her._

Spock began to shake, vision blurring wetly, and he could feel mild panic in Jim. He couldn't find words to use to comfort Jim, so instead to reassure him Spock curled closer, gripping Jim's back and ducking his head on to Jim's shoulder.

"Spock," Jim murmured. "Am I- did I do something wrong?"

Spock took a shuddering breath and shook his head minutely.

"Okay," Jim whispered. "Okay. Alright. What can I do?"

"I do not know," Spock replied in kind, voice warped and cracking from the heavy lump in his throat.

"Would moving to the bed help?" Jim asked. "It would be more comfortable, I'm sure."

"Not-" Spock's voice broke terribly and he had to clear his throat. "Not yet."

"Okay," Jim said, readjusting his position slightly.

"Why are we in your quarters?" Spock whispered. He found that if he didn't speak strongly, his voice wouldn't crack as it had.

"If you don't remember, then I guess you were sleepwalking," Jim said. "I woke up to you coming through the bathroom, almost staggering, and I jumped up to help. Good thing I did, because you collapsed just as I reached you."

"I..." Spock could find no words to respond, and curled up even closer to Jim, as close as he could.

The flow of Jim's emotions was soothing to Spock, steadier than Spock's own. Slowly, he could feel his heartbeat begin to creep back to a normal pace.

The room was totally silent save for their quiet breathing, and Spock's ears began to ring. The office flashed before his eyes, desert beyond and- at first- deafening silence within. Spock began to shake again, any progress towards calm beginning to fade.

"Could you," he began, hoarsely. "Could you, perhaps, make noise?"

"Like what?" Jim asked, fingers tracing soothing patterns on Spock's back.

"Just... any noise. I cannot- the dream was very quiet at first, before it became a nightmare."

"Alright," Jim said. "Come on, let's get you into a bed first."

Spock cooperated clumsily as Jim urged him to his feet, hands never coming out of contact. When Jim began to lead him to the bed in Jim's quarters, Spock resisted.

"No, I do not need your bed-"

"I won't be sleeping on the floor, Spock," Jim said. "We'll share. My bed's plenty big enough for two."

Spock reluctantly allowed Jim to help lower him on to the bed, and Spock scooted back. Jim climbed on to the bed with him, and then pulled the covers up over both of them. Spock lay somewhat curled on his side, and Jim rolled to face him.

"Would you like to talk about it?" Jim asked gently. "You don't have to, of course, but it might help."

Spock began to whisper his nightmare to Jim, including as much detail as he could bring himself to include. When he reached the part where his mother had spoken of him harming his t'hy'la, Spock stalled. How could he avoid confessing to Jim what he was to Spock?

"She told me that she could not be proud of me because I had committed acts that forfeited my claim on my... my soulmate, I suppose you might say."

"Your soulmate?" Jim asked, voice a bit odd. "You have a soulmate?"

"I no longer have any right to claim them as my own. I have tainted our bond."

"Okay, but if you both want to be with each other, then what's the problem?" Jim asked. His words were meant to soothe and help, but the irony was bitter.

"I do not know if they are in love with me," Spock murmured. "I do not even know if I am in love with them, or if I previously knew that I could not claim them."

"Well," Jim said, laying a gentle hand on Spock's shoulder under the covers and stroking his thumb back and forth, "You can't solve the problem now, so I say don't worry too much about it. Do you want to keep talking about your dream?"

Spock nodded jerkily and finished his tale, unable to meet Jim's eyes for the rest of the conversation. When he finished, shaking and near tears once more, a heavy silence settled over the room.

"I... I would appreciate it greatly if you said something," Spock managed. "The silence is most upsetting."

"Oh, Spock," Jim sighed, and Spock looked up to find the most heartbroken look on his face.

He reached out and pulled Spock towards him, until Spock lay with his head on Jim's chest. Spock gingerly wrapped his arms around Jim and held on tight as he began to shake.

"My mother loved me," he whispered, more to reassure himself than anything else.

"I know," Jim murmured, lips pressed to the top of Spock's head. "I know she did."

"My mother loved me," he repeated. "She was proud of me. She would be proud of me."

"Of course she would," Jim whispered. "With a son like you, who wouldn't be proud?"

Spock just squeezed a bit tighter in response. Jim squeezed back, and when Spock said, "Could you alleviate the silence?" Jim began to hum.

Jim's humming was just slightly off key in a way that reminded him of his mother, how she would sing him to sleep as a child when he had grown ill. As Jim's humming continued, Spock felt his body losing tension, eyes growing heavier, and mind slowing. Eventually, between one long blink and what should have been the next, Spock slipped into slumber. __

* * *

Jim finished humming an old lullaby that he used to hear his mother sing to Sam when he was young and then looked down at Spock. He was curled up against Jim's side, head pillowed on Jim's chest. Spock's arm was draped across Jim's chest, hand coming to rest on his shoulder.

Jim just stared for a moment, in shock and wonder. He had never before seen Spock so vulnerable, and never before had Spock initiated such contact as he had when he hugged Jim. It was a conflicting matter. On one hand, Jim was beyond excited that Spock felt comfortable enough to be so emotional and vulnerable around him, and that he was getting to sleep with Spock, even if it was in the purest sense. On the other hand, his nightmare had been a terrible one, and Spock was clearly very shaken.

Jim turned his head back to stare at the ceiling. He wasn't one to fall back asleep after waking up, and it was only 0230, so what was he supposed to do until his alarm went off? Maybe he could wait until Spock was deeply asleep and then sneak out of the bed. But Spock was warm, and he really didn't want to risk waking Spock up.

Suddenly, Jim realized that his eyes were beginning to grow heavy once more. That hadn't happened since... since before Tarsus. It was nice, though, and Jim let himself relax into the bed. In his sleep, Spock murmured and shifted, clutching Jim a bit tighter.

Jim let his head loll to the side so his head was resting against Spock's, and wrapped his arms more securely around the Vulcan. For the first time in a very long time, Jim drifted back to sleep.k

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I'm sorry for hurting Spock (again), but I do love this chapter, and I hope you all did too!


	21. Chapter 21

When Spock came awake, eyes still closed, the first thing that he noticed was warmth and the soothing thoughts of another being floating on the surface of his mind. The warmth did not seem to be coming from the room, but from the skin above him.

Spock opened his eyes and looked down. Jim was almost completely on top of him, arms tight around Spock. Their legs were tangled, Jim's head tucked under Spock's chin. When Spock breathed, Jim's entire body rose and fell with it.

Spock most likely should have had an objection to the excessive touch and most certainly the clinging, yet he did not. Jim was warm, and looked very peaceful in sleep. His hair was soft against the bottom of Spock's chin.

"Jim," Spock said quietly.

Jim shifted and snuggled closer to Spock, taking a deep breath as he began to rise from the depths of slumber.

"Jim," Spock repeated, louder.

Jim took another deep breath and groaned lightly as he finally woke up. He shifted for a moment, and when he realized his position, he sat up very quickly. His hair was mildly matted, eyes bleary but alight with worry.

"Sorry," he said. "I'm- I shouldn't have- I'm a bit clingy when I sleep, I know waking up to me all over you probably sucked because of the whole touch telepathy thing. I'm really sorry."

"There is no need to apologize," Spock said, sitting up far more slowly than Jim had. "Your presence was not unpleasant in the slightest. I do not believe that I would have been able to return to sleep last night if you had not been with me."

Jim seemed frozen for a moment, before most of the tension bled from his shoulders.

"Well," he said. "Okay then." He glanced at the chronometer and then back at Spock.

"We've got plenty of time before shift," he said. "Do you want to meditate?"

"That would be the most effective use of my time," Spock said. "My mental shields are very weak after last night."

"Are you feeling better, now?" Jim asked.

"Affirmative."

"Good," Jim said. "That's good. I'll let you get to your meditating now."

Spock stood and adjusted his meditation robe, which he had fallen asleep in. It was wrinkled, and that would have to be remedied, but not today.

"Good morning, Captain," he said. "I will see you at breakfast."

"Yeah," Jim said, holding up a hand in a parting gesture. "Yeah, see you then."

* * *

When the bathroom door swished shut behind Spock, Jim groaned and collapsed back on to the bed. That had to have been one of the most awkward conversations he'd ever had. Waking up had been nice at first before he realized that he had been sleeping on top of someone with touch-telepathy. He had been warm and comfortable, and for the first time in a long time he had felt truly safe, despite the dangers of space.

Jim scrubbed a hand over his eyes and sat up, noticing that he didn't feel tired like he normally did. He really felt quite rejuvenated. By the time he was done with his morning routine, he had ten spare minutes before he had to leave to meet Bones for breakfast.

Before he really knew what he was doing, he was sitting in front of his console, a draft to Ambassador Sarek on his screen. Without stopping to think too much, he began to type. In the end, it read:

_Dear Ambassador Sarek,_

_It has occurred to me recently that I never formally apologized to you for how I spoke of your former wife Amanda right in front of you the first time you met me. I have apologized to Spock multiple times, but for years it seemed that I have overlooked the fact that I should apologize to you as well._

_I'm incredibly sorry, more so than words can accurately express. I never met Amanda myself, but from what I've gathered, she was an absolutely outstanding woman. I would have loved to meet her._

_Sincerely, Captain James T. Kirk_

He hit send before he could think too much about it, and then glanced at the chronometer. It was time to go to breakfast, so he shut down his console and stood. He glanced back at his unmade bed, shook his head to try and dispel the unfamiliar squeeze in his chest, and led the room.

Bones was already in the cafeteria when he arrived, scowling into his coffee. Jim set his tray down with a clatter, switching the target of the doctor's gaze from the coffee to himself.

"Morning, sunshine," Jim said cheerily.

"Shut up."

"Who pissed in your Cheerios?" Jim said, leaning over to inspect Bones' meal.

"Nobody," Bones growled. "Just sit down and eat your breakfast."

"Alright, alright."

Jim let the matter be for all of ten seconds.

"Seriously, though, why are you so grumpy? You're normally not this grumpy."

"I'm just pissed off at that Vulcan T'Mel. She's on the High Council and in charge of the medical aspect of rebuilding. She's one of the one who thinks that closin' themselves off is key to rebuilding their society- which is total bull, by the way- so when I tried to talk to her about the _Enterprise_ crew doin' more to help, she refused to let us do more than the most minor things."

Bones scowled fiercely and stabbed his omelet with far more force than necessary.

"Xenophobic Vulcans are the worst kind of Vulcan," he muttered sourly.

"I could try to talk to Sarek, see if he can convince her to change her mind and let M'Benga at the least do more than that."

"Be my guest," Bones said, waving his fork. "Don't expect it to go well."

Jim's message to Sarek flashed through his mind.

"I think it might," he said.

Bones harrumphed and stabbed at his food again. Jim managed to dampen his grin to a small smile and picked up his toast.

* * *

At lunch, Spock, Jim, and Nyota all sat together. Spock noticed Chekov enter the mess hall, see Spock, and then look away quickly and move to sit with a group of engineering officers.

"Ensign Chekov does not seem to like me," Spock commented.

"What?" Jim said around a mouthful of lunch. "No, the kid almost worships you."

"He spotted me upon entering the room, ducked his head, and then took a seat on the other side of the mess hall."

"He's..." Nyota sighed. "He's kind of afraid of you right now. When you went down to the surface of Vulcan to retrieve your mother and the High Council, he's the one who beamed you up. He feels responsible for your mother's death, so for the first few weeks after the Narada Incident, he could hardly be in the same room as you."

"He believes that I blame him," Spock surmised.

"Yeah," Jim said sadly. "He does. You've told him multiple times that you don't, but-" Jim shrugged. "Well. Losing people that you feel you should've been able to save has a way of getting under your skin for good."

Spock didn't ask how he knew that. He wasn't sure that he wanted to know.

"Oh," Nyota said, a few moments later. Her breach of the solemn silence that had settled over the table was most welcome, and both Jim and Spock turned their attention to her. "Your anecdotes!"

She procured a PADD, from where Spock wasn't sure, and handed it to him with a smile. Spock reached down and took the small device, and nodded his thanks.

"How many anecdotes are there?" Jim asked.

"Ten," Nyota said. "Some from you, some from the medical staff, some from the bridge crew."

"I'm sure it's very informative," Jim said, grinning.

"Thank you, Nyota," Spock said. "I am certain that it will ease the process of my confession greatly."

"Of course, Spock," Nyota said, and smiled gently at him. "Anything to help."

* * *

When Jim returned to his quarters after shift, there was a message waiting for him on his console. Jim was apprehensive for a moment, and then sat down and opened the message.

It was from Sarek, and Jim's stomach lurched into his throat. He had managed to put his message to Sarek out of his mind all day, but it seemed that he couldn't pretend that he hadn't sent such an emotional message to a Vulcan any longer. It read:

_Captain Kirk,_

_Your apology was unnecessary, however it was appreciated. I did not expect an apology, especially one so long after the event that you are apologizing for, nor did I ever expect one. I understood the reasoning behind your words and actions, and that your intentions were not truly malicious._

_Amanda was a truly outstanding human, although my time with her has passed to treasured memories. It is my belief that had she lived long enough to ever meet you, she would have found you a most pleasing young man._

_Sincerely, Ambassador Sarek_

Jim, by the end of the message, found himself blinking back tears. For so long, he had felt guilty about what he had said. Not only did the guilt include Spock, but Sarek as well. Spock had told him many times that he had been forgiven, but it had never helped much. Sarek's acceptance, though, as well as Spock's, seemed to lighten a weight he'd been carrying for years.

Jim had also found himself wondering on occasion over the past years what Spock's mother would think of him. He wasn't quite sure why the thought had ever occurred to him. Perhaps it was because he had said such cruel things about the woman having never met her to the son that she had adored. Perhaps because he was fascinated by anyone who could command such loyalty and love from Spock that he would almost murder someone over them. Perhaps it was because she seemed like the perfect mother, and Jim had mommy issues galore.

Whatever it was, Sarek had to have known Amanda better than anyone after being telepathically bonded to her for years. He must have had an accurate idea of what and who she would or wouldn't like. Amanda couldn't give her opinion, obviously, but Sarek's opinion was the next best thing.

It was a humbling feeling to know that the next best thing hadn't weighed Jim and found him wanting.

Jim clicked 'reply' and placed his fingers over the keys, unsure as to what he'd write. Bones' previous rant about T'Mel entered his mind, and Jim began to type.

_Dear Ambassador Sarek,_

_Your message was beyond relieving, and it's incredibly pleasing to know that Amanda wouldn't have disliked me._

_Pleasantries aside, I do have an issue that you could perhaps amend. My CMO and friend, Doctor Leonard McCoy, has been conversing with High Council member T'Mel recently, and has been very irritated. He feels that him and his team are going to be underutilized on New Vulcan because T'Mel will not let them do anything more than basic clinic work. Even Doctor Geoffrey M'Benga, who studied Vulcan care on Vulcan-that-was, is not been allowed to do any more than the youngest and most inexperienced nurses on the crew._

_As you are also on the High Council and a colleague of T'Mel's, could you perhaps speak to T'Mel about allowing the crew to do more? I don't expect any promises, as the medical aspect of rebuilding is the domain that she is in charge of and you cannot make any decisions concerning the medical sector, but it would be greatly appreciated if you could try to get M'Benga at the least to be allowed to do more important work. It is my belief that the medical staff of the_ Enterprise _will be more than enough to staff the clinic and some members, especially Doctor M'Benga, would be far better utilized somewhere else._

_Respectfully, Captain James T. Kirk_

Jim sighed and stood, shucking his golden overshirt and kicking off his shoes. He picked up his PADD and settled back into his chair to work on some reports, kicking up his feet. As he worked, he hummed softly, nodding his head slightly to the beat of a song he had been listening to earlier in the day.

After around twenty minutes, his console beeped. Jim looked up to see, to his surprise, a message from Sarek. He set his PADD down, pulling his feet off of the desk. Wondering why Sarek would be messaging him when it was so late on New Vulcan, he opened the message.

_Captain Kirk,_

_It is most unfortunate that T'Mel is in charge of medical matters. She is among those who believe that the best method of rebuilding our broken society is to isolate ourselves. I would beg to differ. Isolation will not benefit us. I was aware that the_ Enterprise _crew, including Doctor McCoy, were not to be utilized to maximize he benefit to the colony, but I was previously unaware that T'Mel did not plan on allowing even Doctor M'Benga to assist the Vulcans that he could._

 _I will most certainly attempt to speak to her concerning this matter. Although I can make no promises, I will attempt to at least convince T'Mel to utilize Doctor M'Benga properly. If possible, I will also speak to her about properly utilizing the rest of the_ Enterprise _crew, especially Doctor McCoy. He proved himself able to treat Vulcans with care and patience following the rescue of the High Council._

 _I must thank you for bringing this issue to my attention. I will make inquires as to whether or not this is happening in other areas where the_ Enterprise _crew will be volunteering, as well as converse with T'Mel about the issue of your medical staff's use._

_I bid you a pleasant evening, Captain. Please inform my son of my well wishes, and that I would speak with him at the soonest possible moment upon your arrival._

_Sincerely, Ambassador Sarek_

Jim let out a long, slow breath. That interaction had gone far better than it could have. For a moment, after sending the message, Jim had thought that Sarek might be offended by Jim questioning the actions of another High Council member, but instead he had been thanked.

Jim glanced over at the bathroom door. Spock was probably available, but Jim remembered that reading the majority of the anecdotes uninterrupted had been such an important thing, somehow. He picked up his PADD and fired off a quick message to Spock. That way he could ignore it if he wanted to, or reply when he was done.

 _To: Commander Spock_  
From: Captain James T. Kirk  
Hey, are you free? I've got a message from your dad, it'll only take a second.

Within moments he had a reply.

 _To: Captain James T. Kirk_  
From: Commander Spock  
I am in my quarters and currently available.

Jim set down the PADD and headed for the bathroom doors. He loved being able to just walk through the bathroom to get to Spock. It was so much better than having to get dressed back up again and use the hallway.

"Hey, Spock," he greeted.

Spock looked up from where he sat on his bed, uniform still on. He nodded his head and gestured to the spot on the bed next to him.

"Welcome, Jim. Take a seat."

"So," Jim said, sitting. "I was just messaging your dad about colony stuff, and he told me at the end of the last message to please 'inform my son of my well wishes, and that I would speak with him at the soonest possible moment upon your arrival.'"

Spock seemed torn between apprehension and surprise, but nodded.

"Thank you for informing me," he said.

"No problem," Jim said, then caught a glimpse of Spock's PADD on his other side. "Were you reading?"

"Affirmative."

"Sorry to interrupt."

"It is no matter. I have almost completed the anecdotes."

"Oh, really? Do you want to tell me your thoughts about the anecdotes later? I've got to head to meet Bones for dinner, actually, but I could definitely chat when I get back."

"That would be acceptable," Spock said. "I will have questions."

"I'll be happy to answer them." Jim smiled brightly at Spock and then stood. "Well, I'll leave you to your reading. Good evening, Spock."

"Good evening, Jim."

* * *

"Hey Bones?" Jim asked. He was sitting in Bones' quarters, the two of them sipping at liquor.

"Hmm?"

"What do you think about Spock? Like, his whole situation."

Bones was silent for a long moment.

"I think it's good that he's been reverted," Bones said, and took a sip of his whiskey. "He's definitely got issues he needs to work through. So far he's talked to you and Nyota, right? How many other people does he have to confess to?"

"Just one," Jim said evasively.

"Do you know who it is?"

"Yeah," Jim said. "But he wants it to stay a secret between him, Nyota, and I for now."

"I suppose that's fair," Bones said. He swirled his whiskey around in his tumbler and looked at it contemplatively. "I wonder who it is."

Jim hid his smile with his whiskey glass.

"I'm sure you'll find out soon enough," he finally said. "Oh, and I've talked to Sarek. He says he'll talk to T'Mel about letting you guys do more important work, but no promises. He's one of those who thinks that they should open up to other species, and T'Mel is basically his main opposition on the High Council. At the very least, he'll try to get M'Benga and maybe you to be used more appropriately."

"Me?" Bones asked, looking up in surprise.

"Yeah," Jim said, and laughed. "He doesn't dislike you, you know. He said you proved yourself able to treat Vulcans with patience and care after the rescue of the High Council."

"Huh," Bones said. "Go figure."

"He also said that he thought Amanda would've liked me," Jim said. "Y'know, if she'd lived and met me."

"No way," Bones said. "Really?"

"Yep." Jim downed the rest of his whiskey. "I know that the statement would've been more believable from Amanda herself, but Sarek's pretty damn close. You can't be telepathically married to someone for years without figuring out what kind of people they wouldn't or wouldn't like."

"Well I'll be," Bones said. "Maybe he ain't such an uptight bastard after all."

For some reason that Jim couldn't figure out, he found that statement absolutely hilarious. He burst out laughing, bent at the waist, and laughed until his face was red and eyes teary.

"It wasn't that funny," Bones said, but then began to laugh as well.

Soon enough, though, it was time to leave. They both had lots of work to do tomorrow preparing for their arrival at New Vulcan, and Jim still had to talk to Spock about the anecdotes.

When Jim buzzed Spock's door for entry, it opened almost immediately. Spock took one look at him and just raised his eyebrows.

"I think that this conversation should wait until tomorrow."

"I'm not that drunk!" Jim protested, but was betrayed by wobbly legs. He had to reach out and steady himself on the doorway.

"Go to bed, Captain," Spock said. His tone brooked no argument, and Jim sighed heavily.

"Fine, fine," he said. "Goodnight, Spock." He took a step back, then turned a sharp gaze on Spock.

"If you have another night like last night, don't hesitate to come to me again."

Spock opened his mouth to respond, but Jim cut him off.

"Seriously, Spock." He lowered his voice. "Seeing you like that was terrifying. I want to help if I can, I don't want you to suffer alone."

"I will come to you if I have another nightmare," Spock said quietly. "I thank you for your assistance last night, Jim."

"Of course."

"Goodnight, Jim."

"Goodnight, Spock."

Jim turned and walked back to his own room, an unexplainable smile on his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I hope you guys enjoy this chapter! The anecdote chapter will be up next, and I'm pretty excited to show that to you guys. That'll be up in nine days, as always!


	22. Chapter 22

_**James Tiberius Kirk, Captain** _

Stars, I have so many stories that I could tell about Bones. How many can I tell, again?

_Around four. Don't go too crazy with this, I do have other people to collect stories from, too._

I know, I know. Let me think... Oh!

So this story takes place at the Academy, early in our first year. I had gotten in a bar fight, as I sometimes did. When I was sneaking back in, I tried to be quiet since Bones needed all the sleep he could get due to his medic duties screwing with his sleep schedule. I wasn't quiet enough, apparently, and it was like the second the door shut behind me the lights were on and he was sitting up in bed, giving me a death glare.

I guess I looked pretty bad, because half of his anger disappeared to make room for concern. He was out of bed like a flash, and I swear his tricorder appeared out of thin air. When I tried to tell him that it wasn't necessary, he just told me to shut up because healing people was, in fact, necessary.

I sat down on the bed and let him scan away, and only resisted once when he began to actually fix me up. I wasn't quite immune to his glares yet, and that one was truly scary. Under eye bags, ruffled hair, stubble, the whole nine yards and then some. Within ten minutes I was all fixed up and Bones was snapping at me to go to bed, because sensible people didn't stay out until the early hours of the morning drinking when they had tests the next day.

I don't even think he noticed he was tucking me in as he ranted, and I was too surprised to resist.

_No way._

Yes! He actually tucked me in. Well, actually, I'm not entirely sure that wasn't a drunken hallucination, but I'm pretty sure I hadn't drunk _that_ much.

In the second story, we were still at the Academy. We were out at a bar together on a Friday in March, talking about the laws of thermodynamics, I think, when all of a sudden Bones leapt out of his chair. I watched him go, having no clue what was going on. Then I realized that there was a young woman having an allergic reaction.

Bones went into super doctor mode, honestly. He was barking orders without even looking to see if anyone was following them, and thankfully there were some other medical cadets in the bar that night who all just started following his orders without even thinking.

Once the girl was stable and an ambulance was on its way, I figured that Bones would return to the table. He didn't, though. The girl's friend was standing by the bar, moments away from a nervous breakdown, and Bones went to her instead. The girl was a mess, really, shaking and on the verge of tears. He gave her a hug and whatever he whispered as he held her managed to calm her down, because when the ambulance arrived she gave him a small smile and walked to the ambulance on steady legs.

"What did you tell her?" I asked.

He scowled at me and drained the rest of his beer before saying, "None of your goddamn business, kid. Now come on, let's get back to campus."

I never did find out what he said to that girl, and I probably never will because he most likely doesn't remember now.

Uh... Oh! The third story takes place in our first year at the Academy. It was my birthday, and I'd gone out to partake in my yearly habit of drinking myself stupid. I vaguely remember sitting up on a hill in a pretty hidden part of a public park, totally wasted, when Bones found me. I don't remember most of this story- it's mainly secondhand from Bones. I wound up blackout drunk.

I had to have been a hell of a sight, but Bones just sat down next to me and started drinking with me. We didn't say anything, and after about an hour the bottle was empty. Bones put all of the bottles in a bag and then pulled me to my feet. I was so drunk, though, he had to basically carry me all the way through the city and back to the Academy. I passed out when we were almost to the dorms, apparently.

The next morning, I woke up showered in a freshly made bed, with a hangover mild enough that I knew instantly that Bones had given me one of his rarely dispensed hangover cures. There was a quilt that wasn't mine over me, and Bones was sitting at his desk working on some homework. He didn't rant like he normally did, or scowl and hit me upside the head. When I made noise, he just glanced over his shoulder and asked if I wanted pancakes or an omelette for breakfast, because it was his turn to cook.

The quilt turned out to be one that Bones' mother had made for him. He was incredibly attached to it, and when I found out I had to just sit down for a while and really think about a lot of things, including how close my friendship with Bones had become. Even then, he was a better friend than any other I'd ever had.

In the fourth and final story, it was our second winter break at the Academy. I had nowhere to go. Mom was off-planet, Frank, well... and Sam was staying with his girlfriend. I figured I'd stay at the Academy and just do nothing, or maybe go and travel some.

A week before break, though, Bones asked if I wanted to come back to Georgia with him over break. I was shocked that he offered, to be honest. We were close, really close, but Bones never talked about Georgia unless he was totally wasted. At first, I tried to resist. My presence wouldn't do anything good- mothers have never liked me. Bones insisted, though.

"My mama," he said. "Would string me up by my ankles if she found out that you had nowhere to go and I didn't bring you with me. She's also been dyin' to meet ya. So quit your whinin' and pack a goddamn bag."

So I did.

We flew out from the San Francisco Airport to Atlanta, where Bones' mom picked us up. She's a tiny old lady, but goddamn she's impressive. I know where Bones got his sarcasm now, and let me tell you, he's got nothing on Eleanor McCoy. She's _scary_ , despite her size, but only if you get on her bad side.

She absolutely adored me, and it was the weirdest thing. The extent of my conversations with mothers who aren't my own were generally scoldings about defiling their children and being a bad influence. But this woman actually seemed to care about me. She wanted to know how I liked Starfleet, which class was my favorite and why, what I was most excited for. There was no intense questioning, no veiled threats.

It was bizarre. I was like... in a mental fog for the first day and a half, expecting her to change her opinion at any second and start hating me like her demon of a cat did.

_Oh, I'm sure that the cat is lovely. It just didn't like you specifically._

No, Nyota. That thing may like Bones and Eleanor, but that is it. Everyone else can go to hell via tiny, sharp claws.

It took me about three days to actually relax and stop expecting Eleanor to demand that I get out of her house. By then, some of the massive McCoy family had started showing up. They celebrate Christmas, you see, and every year as many family members as possible go to Eleanor's house to have one big family Christmas.

We were allowed to relax some, but man when we were done with that house it nearly sparkled it was so clean. Once more McCoys started showing up, we had to adjust living arrangements to ensure everyone had room, and I ended up sharing Bones' childhood room with him. We had to share a bed, too, since there were going to be so many people.

I offered to sleep on the floor at first but both Bones and Eleanor just about murdered me for even suggesting it. So Bones and I crammed ourselves into his single bed and he begrudgingly let me go all octopus on his ass.

Christmas Eve, though, I couldn't sleep. It was my first real Christmas, in a house where I didn't know 90% of the people in the house and they didn't know me. I didn't want to screw anything up, and it had been so nice that I didn't really want it to end, either.

Bones seemed to know, somehow, and at around midnight he sighed really heavily- which felt so _weird_ because at that point I was basically using him as a human mattress- and asked what the hell was bothering me. I tried to get him to drop it, but he doesn't just drop matters that concern his friends or family. I finally caved and told him why I couldn't sleep, and Bones just sighed again and wrapped his arms around me.

"Kid," he said. "You ain't gonna mess anythin' up, all right? All you gotta do is not burn the house down and you'll be fine, I promise. And if you think that my mama won't be buggin' and threatenin' me to bring you back next year, then you're dead wrong."

"You're sure?" I asked.

"I'm sure, kid. Now go to sleep, and I don't wanna hear any whinin' about you being tired tomorrow mornin.'"

I did manage to fall asleep after that because believe it or not, Bones is a fantastic human mattress. I didn't complain the next morning, either, when we were woken up by his cousins screeching about their presents.

  
**_Eleanor McCoy, civilian, mother_ **

To: Nyota Uhura  
From: Eleanor McCoy

Nyota, that was a mighty touching message. Of course I can give you a couple of stories about my baby boy. Do tell the Mister Spock that this whole thing is for that I hope he gets better soon.

Stories of my Lenny... I almost have too many to choose from.

Let's start with one from when he was little, about eight or nine. The poor boy was terrified of spiders, I tell you, absolutely terrified. Well, one day in mid-May I hear this awful screaming from Lenny's room. I rush upstairs, thinking he's dying or something of the sort, and burst into his room only to find him sitting on his desk, screaming at something on the floor. Lo and behold, there's a spider.

Now, it wasn't a big spider. The butt of it was about the size of a quarter, so it was no tarantula, but poor Lenny was just screaming his head off. I raised my foot to stomp on it, when Lenny started yelling at _me_.

"No!" he yelled. "Don't squish it!"

"Well then whaddaya want me to do?" I asked.

"I dunno," Lenny said, "But it's a livin' thing! You can't kill it! You gotta take it outside or somethin.'"

"Alright, baby," I said. "I'll take it outside."

Despite not allowing me to kill it, Lenny only got off of the desk once I returned and told him that the spider was gone. My boy, gosh, he's a healer through and through. There's not a malicious bone in his body, never was. That's almost all his dear father's fault, but I like to take some credit.

Another time, when Lenny was barely eighteen and already in his freshmen year of college, doing little things at his father's clinic on top of that, a stray kitten found its way to our front porch. Lenny was just coming home for winter break when he found the little thing nearly dead by the steps. That boy came thundering into the house, borrowing some of his father's tools, determined not to let this little kitten die.

I told him it was hopeless, and when his father David got home, so did he. Lenny didn't care- he was determined as all hell to save the life of this little kitten. Eventually, somehow, against all of David's medical predictions, the kitten began to get better. By the end of break, the little kitten was fairly weak, but healthy nonetheless. David and I couldn't believe it. Lenny couldn't bring the cat back to school, however, and she was left to be taken care of by David and me.

Lenny always asked how the cat- we named her Laurel- was doing when he'd call home every night without fail. Laurel would come rushing into whatever room I was in when he called, meowing up a storm. He'd take time to talk to her, too, asking if David and I were treating her well.

That cat is still clinging to life, you know, despite her age at this point. I think she's waiting for Lenny to come home to die, the stubborn thing.

Another story... Oh, perhaps I shouldn't tell you, but this is the best story I know. It's about his divorce. You probably shouldn't let Lenny know I told you this, and I'll avoid going in to too much detail, but it's the best story I could possibly think of to show his kindness.

Right before Lenny graduated medical school, his dad started to get sick. It got bad fast, and Lenny had to start picking up slack at his dad's office. Almost as soon as Lenny graduated, David got real bad real fast. Instead of spending time with his wife and little girl, he was spending all of his time keeping his daddy's clinic afloat and trying desperately to find a cure.

Within three months, his daddy was near dead and Lenny was nowhere near a cure. He was torn in too many different directions between his daddy, the clinic, and his family. There just weren't enough hours in the day for him to do what needed to be done.

In the end, his daddy didn't make it. The cure was found a couple of weeks later, and Lenny ended up getting a bit depressed, although he never got diagnosed. He leaned on alcohol some to keep his guilt at bay.

Excuse my language, but his bitch of a wife didn't help. She was always selfish- I knew it would never last, but I could never had guessed that it would all collapse so spectacularly.

Lenny's wife had been upset while Lenny tried to keep his daddy alive and keep the clinic in business, felt that her and her baby were being ignored. She, in turn, ignored his depression and demanded attention almost as soon as his daddy was gone. He just couldn't give it to her, and she grew bitter. She made his life unbearable, and he leaned more and more on alcohol to cope, despite my requests that he get diagnosed.

She finally filed for divorce. Dragged him to court- she's a lawyer, made sure the judge was one she had ties to, however obscure- and claimed that he was a neglectful alcoholic who was unfit to be a father. She got full custody, and my poor baby didn't even get visitation. Before his daughter was even two years old, Lenny had lost her.

It all started, the whole vicious cycle, because he was too nice to just leave his daddy's health to other doctors. Bless his heart, he's thick as all hell sometimes, but he's a kind, kind soul.

I do hope this helps, Nyota, and I hope that you'll keep what I've told you relatively secret. Lenny would just about hit the roof if he found out I told you about his divorce at all.

Sincerely, Eleanor McCoy

  
**_Christine Chapel, Head Nurse_ **

I can't believe you think I've got plentiful stories to tell about Leonard's goodwill. Have you ever seen that man during a crisis, or ever? He's all bark, bark, bark.

_But no bite, right?_

No, no bite. I suppose there's a story I can tell. It was a few months before Khan, and the Enterprise was recolonizing a rather primitive species. They weren't warp capable, but they had lots of dilithium on their planet. They were also suffering from a natural plague that would wipe them all out if they weren't relocated.

Our job was to relocate them to a suitable planet, which would just so happen to clear the way for dilithium mining, but that detail isn't very important.

If I had to describe them, they were a mix between apes and cats. They had the five fingers and apeish faces, but whiskers and a tail and pointed ears on the tops of their heads. The young ones were covered in a soft silvery fur that grew thicker and faded to a more purple color as they got older.

The little ones were our main concern. After all, they were the future of the species. They also grew ill faster, and they were more negatively affected by it. Leonard quickly devised a cure for the adults, but somehow the babies had body chemistry different enough that the same cure wouldn't work for both of them.

Leonard managed to find a cure for the young ones quickly enough, but it took about a week to work and they were miserable the whole time. It was so awful hearing them cry at night, the infants and toddlers. One time I was on the night shift, though, they seemed quieter than usual.

When I snuck over to the makeshift ward with the young children, I found Leonard cradling an infant. He was rocking them to sleep, humming something under his breath. When the child quieted down, he set them back in their bed and moved on to another child. Rocking and humming, rocking and humming until the sickbay was near quiet for the first time in a while.

It had to have taken hours, the time he spent calming the children when he could've been asleep. He wasn't even supposed to be on shift. I suppose he just cared so much that he would rather lose sleep than let the children cry as they suffered. We couldn't stop their pain, so we didn't bother too much to try and stop their expressions of their pain. It wouldn't really help them anyways besides maybe preventing a sore throats from yelling.

It hit me like a punch when I realized just how much he cared. They weren't his children, weren't his species, even, and he wasn't even on shift. Yet he took time away from his well loved sleep to try his best to comfort them. There wasn't a group of people to praise him, or a parent to thank him. He did this solely to try to comfort the infants through their pain.

I made sure he couldn't see me when he finally turned around.

  
_**Geoffrey M'Benga, Doctor** _

There aren't plentiful doctors on the ship- I don't have too much contact with Leonard. I suppose the best story I have would be after Khan, in the hospital in San Francisco. We both signed up to work there while repairs were being done, Leonard and I.

One of my patients was next door to the Captain, so I would frequently see Leonard. Since the Captain was in such critical condition and required constant monitoring, he was Leonard's only patient. Leonard... he almost never left the Captain's room.

I went looking for him once long after his shift had ended and couldn't find him anywhere. Eventually, I went to look in the Captain's room. Really, I should've checked there in the first place, because there he was.

The Captain was laying in his bed, still comatose, and Leonard was asleep in a chair next to his bed. His arms were crossed on the bed, head laying on his arms. It couldn't have been a comfortable position.

When I shook him awake with the hopes of getting him to drag a cot in to the room and sleep on that instead of in a chair, he just shook me off and started checking the machines again. It was almost like a reassurance for him, constantly checking the monitors to make sure that the Captain was fine.

"Leonard," I told him. "You need to sleep."

"I did sleep," he said, irritated. "I just slept. Didn't you see?"

"That hardly counts as sleeping."

"I got enough."

"Your back must be ki- annoying you. Come on, drag a cot in here. You won't have to leave, you can still sleep in here. You'll just be more comfortable."

It seemed like usual McCoy stubbornness until his reply.

"Why do I deserve to be comfortable?" He snapped, turning away from the Captain for the first time during the conversation to glare at me. "I couldn't- I couldn't save him. He wasn't comfortable in the slightest when he was-" He blinked back tears, unable to finish the sentence. "Why do I deserve to be comfortable when he's not?"

What a self-deprecating idiot, right? You'd think with his IQ he would be smarter, sometimes.

_He really said that?_

He did.

_He does have a tendency to be too hard on himself, but I never suspected..._

Yeah.

I tried my best to get him to rest, though.

"He's fine, Leonard," I said. "Look at the monitors. He's alive. You saved him. Give yourself a pat on the back and get a damn cot."

"He's comatose," Leonard sneered. "He's not fine. He's stable for now, but he's not fine."

"Leonard-"

"Geoffrey."

Leonard looked like an old, feeble guard dog, standing between the Captain and I as if I would hurt the Captain, but obviously unable to stop me if I tried to get past him.

"I know you care about him," I said. "But you're no use to him if you run yourself to exhaustion."

All the fight seemed to go out of Leonard. His shoulders slumped and his tone went from defensive to tired.

"He's like a brother to me," Leonard said quietly. "No, he is a brother to me. He's done so much for me, I can't... I can't let him down even more than I already have."

"How did you let him down?"

"I let him... let him die in the first place, didn't I?"

"Leonard, he had to have known that he was going to die. Nobody could survive that. He probably thought he was sacrificing himself. He'll be overjoyed that he was brought back, Leonard, not disappointed that you couldn't stop him from dying in the first place."

Leonard just shook his head and turned back to the Captain's bed. It was so obvious that he was about collapse, even after whatever amount of sleep had had just got. He leaned heavily against the bed, hand coming to rest on Jim's.

"Come on, dumbass," I thought I heard him whisper. "Come back. I'm waiting, you hardheaded idiot."

"Leonard," I said. "Do I need to get Commander Spock in here to make you sleep? Because I will do it."

He glared at me.

"Would you allow me to work on a patient, especially a VIP, if I was sleep deprived and starving myself?"

"No," he said, almost petulantly.

"Of course you wouldn't. Because you care about your staff and your patients, no matter their identity. Why would you deny the Captain, who you seem to care about a lot, treatment from a well-rested Doctor?"

That seemed to get through to Leonard. He sighed heavily, dropping his head and squeezing the Captain's hand.

"You're right," he said. "But I'm... I can't just leave him. What if something happens and a rookie gives him medicine he's allergic to? What if-"

"I'll watch him while you're gone, Leonard. I know his allergies, I'll make sure he gets the treatment he needs."

He was so close to accepting, I could tell. So close to leaving to take care of himself, so close to allowing himself to be away from the Captain.

"I just... What if he wakes up and I'm not here?"

"I'll call you if anything happens, Leonard, I promise. If you don't take care of yourself, he'll be removed from your care. If you go and rest, he'll only be out of your care for a few hours. Which would you prefer?"

Leonard squeezed the Captain's hand again and turned around to face me.

"Fine," he said. "Fine, I'll go."

Even so, he slept and ate as little as I would let him get away with until the Captain woke up. He cared so much about the Captain that I almost had to resort to a Vulcan neck-pinch or drugs to get him to rest. He's... when Leonard cares about someone, he cares. I've never met anyone else with as much heart.

  
**_Hikaru Sulu, helmsman_ **

Leonard... Yeah, I guess I've got a pretty good story about him. It was after Krall, when the ship was being rebuilt and we were all stationed on Yorktown until she was done.

After being apart for so long, Ben and I were itching for a date night. The only issue was finding a babysitter for Demora. You wouldn't think it would be hard to find a babysitter on a station the size of a small planet, but _damn_ was it difficult. Eventually, we decided to hand her off to friends.

That, however, was its own problem. First we thought of Chekov, with his many siblings and cousins, but he was working with Spock on something, so both of them weren't available. Uhura had a girls night planned with Christine Chapel and Janice Rand, so she couldn't help. Jim, Keenser, and Scotty were all working on a different project, so none of them were available. Eventually, we realized that Doctor McCoy would be available when we needed a sitter.

When I went to the clinic he was volunteering at to visit him and ask if he'd take care of De for us, he looked totally gobsmacked. I'd never seen him like that before, and I've never seen him like that since, but it was a beautiful sight.

"Yeah," he finally said. "Yeah, I'll take care of her." He paused, and then said, "You really trust me with your baby girl?"

"Of course we do, doc," I replied. "You manage to keep Jim from dying on a daily basis, and you've got a girl of your own, right? I'm sure you'll do fine."

He gave me a dubious look and I almost thought he was going to take it back, but he showed up on time. I'd never really seen him dressed in casual clothes, and it caught me by surprise. He looked nice, though, and I never did ask him where he got those jeans...

_The story, Sulu. The story. Not jeans._

Yeah, yeah.

They really were nice jeans though.

Anyways, Ben and I prepared to leave for our date. De adored Leonard, running up and beaming at him.

"Hi, Doctor Bones!" she said.

Leonard froze for a moment in shock, and for half a second I almost expected him to be upset with her, because nobody besides Jim calls Leonard 'Bones.' But instead, he crouched down and smiled at her. I'd only seen him smile once or twice before- his face seemed to be a permanent scowl, but not that night. That night, he was all smiles.

"Have you been hanging out with Captain Kirk?"

"Yeah!" Demora responded, bouncing up and down. "Captain Jimmy is the best! He took me to get ice cream and he let me get all the sprinkles I wanted if I didn't tell my daddies." She then seemed to realize that Ben and I were still there. "Oh, whoops."

"Did Captain Jimmy tell you about me?" Leonard asked.

"Yeah," De said. "He said you're his Doctor Bones and that you fix him when he does dumb things and gets hurt. He said you're really grumpy, but you don't seem grumpy."

"I'm only grumpy because the people on the Enterprise do a lot do stupid things."

"Oh," she said. "Okay. My daddies say I'm really smart, so you don't have to be grumpy."

I was still just standing in shock as Leonard grinned and ruffled her hair. Ben finally tugged on my hand and we made our goodbyes.

I don't know everything that happened while we were on our date. When Ben and I got home, though, what we found was beautiful. Now, I've been promised that I wouldn't use this as blackmail, but this isn't blackmail because it's for a good cause and I don't think anyone who would be allowed to read this would use this against him.

We found Leonard and De asleep on the couch, the home screen of a Disney princess movie repeating on the holoscreen. Leonard and Demora were both out cold on the couch, De cuddled up in Leonard's lap. Leonard had bright pink nails and all of De's nails, both feet and hands, were painted the same color as Leonard's. There was a gaudy purple tiara on De's head, and a matching one behind Leonard on the ground. There was an empty bowl on the table, and the place smelled like popcorn.

It seemed that Leonard had entertained De with a princess movie night and had actively participated in the princess activities, too. I almost cooed at the cuteness of it, and a second later it hit me that Leonard had probably been so enthusiastic with De because he never got to do this with his own daughter. Then I was close to tears instead of cooing, but I managed to put my poker face on before waking the bigger, very disgruntled princess.

He moved De so she was on the couch instead of him, and thanked us for letting him take care of De. We thanked him for taking care of her, and as he made his way out, I caught him look back at De with a longing, almost nostalgic look.

"He misses his daughter so much," I murmured to Ben. "It's all over his face."

"I know," Ben said, rubbing my back. "I know. Come on, let's get our little princess in bed."

He was our go to babysitter for the rest of the stay at Yorktown. I could tell, even though it was never verbally acknowledged, that he was grateful for being able to spend time with and take care of a little girl, even if it wasn't his own. It was close enough for him, I think. It had to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Sorry the update is a bit late- I've been pretty busy recently. Lateness aside, I hope you enjoy this chapter!


	23. Chapter 23

_A hot breeze rushes over Spock, and he closes his eyes in appreciation. There is a rare rainstorm coming, darkening the horizon. His mother loved the rainstorms, said they remind her of the place on Earth where she was born and raised._

_His mother would stand on the terrace when it rained, enjoying the wetness and laughing as she rarely did. Rain has that affect on humans when they have been away from water for too long, Spock finds. It is most curious._

_If he so desired, he could probably find a scientific paper on the subject. He finds, however, that this small mysticism is not one that he itches to find an answer for. The rain made his mother happy because, 'I haven't seen rain in so long,' each and every time it came, and that is enough for him._

_Thunder cracks in the distance, and a breeze shifts so that the scent of the oncoming storm is drifting towards Spock. The air is growing sticky and humid, a foreign and entirely unpleasant feeling._

_The door to the terrace where he stands opens and soft footsteps pad out to meet him. It has been years, but they are immediately recognizable. Spock is frozen in shock until a small, cool hand comes to rest on his shoulder._

_"Spock," his mother says happily in the familiar soft cadence of hers. "My son, my Spock."_

_Spock turns, each joint protesting as if he was the tin man from the old Terran movie 'The Wizard of Oz' that his mother once showed him. Just behind him, looking as she did the day Spock left for Earth, stands the woman who he lost years ago._

_"Mother," Spock whispers._

_"Oh, Spock," Amanda signs happily._

_She raises her hands to cup his face as she once did, and Spock allows it, eyes sliding closed. He will not reject her as he did the day he refused entrance to the VSA, the last time in her life she ever tried to comfort him so. Amanda's thumb rubs over his cheek, wiping away wetness that Spock realizes is coming from his eyes. He is not sad, not really, and yet..._

_"Spock, sweetheart, why are you sad?"_

_"I am not sad," Spock whispers, opening his eyes._

_His mother stands before him, eyes warm and human, the one thing he truly inherited from her brimming with untamed emotion. Her headscarf drifts lazily in the wind, the hem of her dress following suit._

_"I am not sad," he repeats. It's true, the emotion sitting in his side and making him feel- illogically- as if his heart is about to crack is not sadness. "I do not- I believe I am happy."_

_"Happy?" Amanda gives him a teasing smile. "Why are you happy?" Her hands do not move from his face._

_"You are here," Spock whispers. "I... I am happy because you are here, and I love you."_

_His mother smiles brighter than Spock had ever seen her smile, eyes shining with tears of her own that Spock believes are from joy. She removes her hands from his face and places them on his shoulders, then told her head inquisitively._

_"I love you too, Spock." Her face falls into an expression of sadness, and she steps back from Spock._

_For a moment, Spock almost grabs after her to place her hands upon his shoulders again. He does not scorn her touch, now, and in fact desires it greatly. Touch is a method of comfort, he knows. If she is upset, would she not, rationally, require comforting?_

_"I love you too, but why did you never tell me?" she whispers._

_Spock suddenly finds it very difficult to speak, as if the humidity has found a home in his throat and closed it off. He swallows hard, hardly able to bear the sorrow on Amanda's face._

_"I was so concerned with attempting to be the perfect Vulcan that I neglected my humanity." He swallowed again, forced the words out in a rough voice. "I neglected you. I let you suffer in my pursuit of perfection, and for that I am most regretful."_

_"Regretful, happy?"_

_Amanda smiles softly at him. Thunder cracks once more in the distance, and the wind begins to pick up._

_"Those are awfully human words, Spock."_

_"I am half human."_

_"Yet you never acknowledged that part of yourself when you were growing up."_

_Thunder cracks close enough and loud enough to almost make Spock flinch. There is no lightning, though, and Spock wonders in the back of his mind where it might be._

_"No," he admits hoarsely. "I did not. I was illogically ashamed of that part of myself."_

_Amanda raises an eyebrow._

_"You're ashamed of your humanity, but love your human mother?" Her tone is mildly admonishing. "Spock, you do realize how illogical that sounds, right?"_

_"I was never as logical as I would have liked to be."_

_The excited squeak of a young child comes from behind Spock, and he turns to survey the scene. It is a welcome relief from the searching gaze of his mother._

_A small Vulcan child, hardly out of infancy, is held in the arms of a young human woman. Rain has begun to pour from the sky, soaking Spock and the woman with her child. The child is flapping his tiny, chubby arms, too chubby to belong to a full Vulcan, and laughing at the water. The young woman laughs too and presses a kiss to the child's head._

_"Do you like the water, Spock?" The younger version of his mother says. "I like the water too."_

_She continues to hum happily and bounce the infant Spock on her hip. Spock's infant self continues to giggle, and the brilliant smile that Amanda wears as she gazes down at her child is enough to flood Spock with hot shame. How could he have scorned such love?_

_Thunder cracks again, loud enough that Spock must cover his ears. The sound of crumbling stone and shattering glass assault Spock's ears alongside the thunder. The vision of Spock and Amanda vanishes, leaving nothin but the soaking wet terrace._

_When Spock turns to look for his mother, he finds nothing but the scorched and tattered remains of her favorite headscarf where she once stood._

_"Don't you know to go inside when the storm is that close? Otherwise you might get struck by lightning," Sybok says, emerging on to the terrace. Within moments, he's soaked too._

_"Didn't you love her enough to herd her inside like Sarek used to when the storms would get too close?" Michael asks from her seat on the edge of the terrace._

_"I-" Spock begins, but cannot find any suitable words._

_"You what?" Michael asks tauntingly._

_"You were too preoccupied?" Sybok supplies._

_"You're always preoccupied," Michael says scornfully. "Always too busy studying to be the smartest, studying to be the most stoic, studying to be the best telepath."_

_"Did you really love her?" Sybok asks. "Or were you too preoccupied to ever find the time?"_

_"I-" Spock says again, helplessly._

_The rain continues to pour down, soaking the three of them. Thunder booms deafeningly, but still Spock can see no lightning._

_"A true Vulcan is never at a loss for words," Sarek says. He emerges from behind Sybok, through the door that was left open._

_None of them pay any mind to the scarf on the ground, but Spock's gaze cannot help but to be brought back to it again and again. Amanda had acquired the scarf in Seattle on the trip where her favorite family picture was taken. It is a delicate green silk, her favorite color._

_"Spock," Michael says coldly. "Are you paying attention?"_

_"I did love mother," Spock whispers, his voice drowned out by the rain. "I do love mother."_

_"You did not cry when she died," Sarek says. "You are half human, it would have been excusable, and yet you did not cry."_

_"I was surrounded by the High Council," Spock protests. "I did not want to bring more shame upon our family."_

_"Shame? You think mother was a cause for shame, or I?" Michael demands._

_"Am I a cause of shame?" Sybok says testily. "Is it father, for loving a human?"_

_"No, no, it is me," Spock says, almost a sob. "I am the one who brought shame upon our family. I am half human and half Vulcan but cannot completely abide by either set of ethics. I attacked another student, and I rejected the VSA's acceptance in a petty fit of anger. I was unable to save my own mother from death. The only shameful member of this family is me."_

_"You think that I am shameful?" A small voice asks, the monotone of Vulcan not yet perfected. Spock can easily detect hurt and confusion in the young voice._

_Slowly, Spock turns and finds another young version of himself that cannot possibly be older than five. Another version of Amanda holds his hand and glares fiercely at him. He has never been looked at with such disdain by his own mother, and he shrinks away from her. Michael, Sybok, and Sarek are silent behind him, if they're still there at all. Slowly, Spock kneels to better see the child's face._

_"No," Spock whispers. "You are only a child. You could not be shameful."_

_"Yet I am you. If you are shameful, then so am I."_

_"No, child," Spock says. "You are loved and cherished. You are not shameful. You have not done what I have, seen what I have seen."_

_"I will," the child Spock says, "because I am you. Therefore, I am shameful."_

_"You are not shameful," Spock insists, desperation creeping into his tone._

_"Why do you think that I am shameful?" the child Spock says, eyes watering and lip wobbling._

_"What kind of person are you," the younger Amanda asks him, tone frigid, "that you would tell a child that he is shameful?"_

_"I did not," Spock says desperately. "Mother, I did not-"_

_"I could not possibly be the mother of a person like you," Amanda nearly hisses, eyes alight with fury. She tugs on the younger Spock's hand and when he looks up her face is kind and warm. Fascinating, how humans can change expressions so quickly. "Come on, sweetheart, let's go."_

_Spock staggers to his feet and turns around. There is nobody else on the terrace._

_"You should've piloted that future spaceship faster," Nero's voice says, as loud and inescapable as the thunder. "Maybe Scotty wouldn't have beamed you out in time, and you wouldn't have had to keep living, to keep suffering."_

_"I would have abandoned my t'hy'la," Spock said. He was horrified to find that his voice shook as much as his hands. The rain continues to pour down, and Spock begins to shiver as the temperature begins to drop, sun setting behind the clouds._

_"The t'hy'la that you can't claim? He'd be better off without you."_

_"No," Spock says desperate to try and prove Nero wrong. "No, I have saved his life. He would be dead without me."_

_"Or maybe someone else would've saved him. You're not important in the grand scheme of things, Spock. You never were. It's always been about the others, about your t'hy'la."_

_"No," Spock protests weakly._

_His entire body shudders as the rain and the air grow colder. As the sun sets, the light begins to fade and fade rapidly. Within moments, Spock cannot see a thing. He drops to his knees, shaking, arms wrapped around his torso and head bowed._

_Nero laughs, a booming sound, and Spock smells the peculiar scent of ozone before fire tears through his body and destroys him._

Spock woke halfway through a scream, overwhelming phantom pain radiating throughout his body. When he realized where he was and the pain faded, he sagged back against his bed. His cheeks felt wet, and when Spock brushed his fingers against them they came back covered in tears.

He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and tried to regulate his breathing. If he were to reappear in Jim's room, it would not be in the condition he was in the previous night. He was a diplomat's son and heir to the House of Surak.

When, after a few moments, Spock stood, his body still trembled from adrenaline. The shaking was not entirely avoidable, and most likely would be almost entirely gone by the time he was in Jim's quarters.

In front of the door to their shared bathroom, Spock stalled. He was not strictly in need of comfort, and Jim was most likely asleep. Disrupting his rest was entirely unnecessary, despite Spock's want for comfort. However, Jim had told Spock to come to him upon the experience of another nightmare. If he were to find out that Spock had not come to him, he would be upset.

Spock's decision was made for him when the door in front of Spock slid open to reveal a hastily dressed Jim. He wore low-slung sweatpants and an old Ole Miss T-shirt, most likely stolen from Doctor McCoy. His hair was askew, eyes bright with concern. It seemed that he had heard Spock's cry.

"Spock," he said. "Are you okay?"

"I... I could be in a better mental state."

"Come on in," Jim said, stepping aside. "Would you like some tea?"

"Some tea would be welcome," Spock said. "Thank you."

"Of course," Jim said, and waved at the couch. "Make yourself comfortable. I've got a blanket or two if you'd like one, or I could just turn up the temperature."

"You need not change the temperature," Spock said, sitting down and taking a blanket off of the back of the couch. "I am perfectly content with a blanket."

It was bewildering, how Jim was taking care of him. Making him tea, offering to raise the temperature, disturbing his own rest to comfort Spock. He could have- and, reasonably, should have- stopped Jim from going out of his way, but he was simply too bewildered to fuss about it. Besides, it had been a long while since anyone had showed so much concern over his health when he was not dying.

Jim sat down, two cups of tea in hand. Spock sat with his legs curled under him and the blanket around his shoulders, and clasped the mug of tea between his hands. Jim sat cross-legged next to him, mug held in the same style. His eyes did not leave Spock as he took a sip of his tea.

"Would you like to talk about it?" He asked.

"I believe that it would be beneficial," Spock said after a pause.

"That's not what I asked. Beneficial or not, do you want to?"

Spock flexed his fingers around the mug, and did not look at Jim when he answered. He did not want to see the disappointment that he thought he would find on Jim's face.

"...Not currently."

"Okay." Jim leaned back against the couch and sipped at his tea again. "Then we don't have to talk about it. We can just sit and drink tea."

Spock looked up in surprise. He had expected that Jim would want to talk him to talk about his nightmare and would be upset when he did not. Jim did not seem at all upset, however.

Spock relaxed further, sipping at the tea and enjoying the warmth it spread to his hands. Jim simply sat next to him in companionable silence, eventually breached by Spock.

"We will be arriving at New Vulcan today," Spock said. "I should confess to Doctor McCoy tomorrow, and then I will be reverted tomorrow night."

"Hopefully," Jim said. "What did you think of the anecdotes?"

"They were intriguing," Spock said. "Doctor McCoy seems to be very driven by his heart, and cares with depth."

"Once you get past the bark, he's just a giant ball of fluff," Jim said, sounding fond.

"Indeed. I found Lieutenant Sulu's anecdote most fascinating, as well as Ms McCoy's anecdotes."

"Yeah? What about them?"

"He seems to care about his daughter very much," Spock said. "For what reasons would he not be allowed custody or visitation? The anecdotes suggest that he would be an exemplary father."

"I don't know," Jim said sadly. His tone suddenly turned bitter. "Ask his bitch of an ex-wife. She was entirely unreasonable. The man had just lost his father, and she goes an divorces him for not being around 24/7?"

"I find that humans can often be perplexing," Spock said. Jim scoffed.

_"I_ find that humans can be perplexing," Jim said. "Don't worry about it."

They lapsed back into comfortable silence, each of them sipping at their tea. Spock began to feel warmer with the blanket wrapped around him and Jim nearly pressed against his side.

"I stood on the terrace of my childhood home on Vulcan-that-was," Spock began, quietly and abruptly. "There was an impending rainstorm. My mother greatly enjoyed the rainstorms. During each one, she would stand on the terrace and laugh as if she were a child again, and not the wife of an esteemed ambassador on a planet that was not her own."

Jim didn't say a word as Spock spoke, just sipped at his tea and listened. The silence eased Spock's nerves and he found his words coming quicker and easier, even during the more difficult parts of his dream. When Spock finally finished, Jim leaned in just enough that their shoulders pressed against each other.

"Your mother was pretty important to you, wasn't she?" Jim asked, his voice as quiet as Spock's had been. "You've had two dreams about her. Mine focused around what happened on Tarsus."

"Very much so. I surmise that I have dreamt of her because my trauma stemmed not from the loss of my planet, but from the loss of my mother."

"I almost wish that I cared about my own mother that much," Jim murmured, before continuing. "About that whole t'hy'la comment from Nero? What... I still don't understand why you can't claim him."

"There... There are ancient codes. They are not strictly abided by anymore, and it is due to the laxness that I am not dead. The crime I have committed was punishable by death in pre-Surakian times. It is only punishable now by forfeit of a claim and deep shame."

"What did you do?" Jim asked, confusion written all over his face. Spock could do no more than look at Jim, chest aching, and shake his head.

"I..."

"Alright," Jim said, "it's okay. I'm not going to force you to talk."

"He has forgiven me," Spock whispered. "But I cannot forgive myself. I have done the unspeakable."

Jim's response was not verbal, but he leaned into Spock so their sides were more or less pressed together with the blanket between them.

"What I've found," Jim said. "Is that Vulcans tend to be way too hard on themselves, half-Vulcans included. I'm not going to tell you to throw emotional restraint to the wind or anything, but stars, Spock, you don't need to beat yourself up so badly over this. I mean, if I was your soulmate I'd be pretty upset that you spent time beating yourself up instead of confessing your love or whatever it is you do with soulmates."

Spock ignored the devastating tightness in his chest

"Your faith in me is astounding," Spock said quietly. "Thank you."

"That's what friends are for," Jim said. "I'd be a pretty bad friend if I didn't have faith in you."

Again, a comfortable silence rose between them. Spock found himself growing lethargic and leaning more against Jim.

"I am fatiguing," Spock said eventually. "I will not keep you for any longer."

"You can stay if you want," Jim said, frowning. "Don't feel like you need to kick yourself out. You can sleep here, if you'd like."

Spock considered that. He was disinclined to move, the blanket comfortable around his shoulder and Jim warm at his side. It didn't sound like Jim wanted him to leave, and he would hate to disappoint Jim...

"That would be acceptable."

Jim's face lit up, his smile bright. He stood and tugged Spock with him, setting down their tea. Spock, tired both physically and mentally, let himself be lead to the bed. The covers had been carelessly flung back upon Jim's awakening, and the sight shamed Spock. Jim should still have been sleeping under those covers, undisturbed by Spock or his nightmares.

Jim either didn't notice Spock's temporary reluctance or refused to acknowledge it. The two of them climbed into bed, Spock allowing himself to sink into the comfort of Jim's blankets. Jim pulled the covers up over them and commanded the lights out, and the two of them lay in darkness.

Underneath the sheets, their legs brushed, and Spock allowed the soothing sense of Jim's emotions to lull him to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I'm currently a few chapters ahead, working on the second to last chapter, if all goes to plan. In the meantime, I hope you all enjoy this one!


	24. Chapter 24

Jim had continued to act like an octopus on the second night they shared a bed. When Spock woke in the morning, there were legs tangled with his own and a warm body half-draped over him. Fine blond hair tickled the bottom of his chin, and soft, even gusts of breath blew across his chest. Spock felt warm, and the thought of leaving the bed was entirely unappealing.

For several minutes, Spock simply stayed in bed. He didn't move, allowing Jim to continue to sleep, and traced idle patterns on Jim's shoulder. Spock closed his eyes and basked in the feeling of Jim asleep on top of him, the warm and hazy emotions of someone having restful sleep.

Spock's comfort with the entire situation was bizarre to say the least. Before recalling some memories, he had loathed Jim. Before the 'gift', he didn't know quite what their relationship had been. It hadn't been romantic, Spock knew that much. There had been no hints to them having a romantic relationship, he hadn't remembered one when he remembered Jim, and Spock could not allow it after what he had done. Simply friends, then? But it was unusual for friends to comfort each other by sharing a bed. Human brothers, however, had been known to share beds.

Friend, brother. Two aspects of the t'hy'la bond.

Maybe it wasn't so bizarre after all. They may not have been in a romantic relationship, but it seemed to be a very close one.

Next to him, Jim shifted in his sleep as he slowly began to rise from the depths of slumber. His hand twitched on Spock's chest as he took a deeper breath, then shifted his face slightly to burrow it in Spock's neck. He heaved a contented sigh and went fully lax once more, as if he were about to drift back to sleep.

"Jim," Spock whispered. "It is time to rise. We have much to do before our arrival."

"Mmm?" Jim slurred, finally waking. He shifted against Spock and sighed heavily, this time in disappointment. He didn't seem to be fully aware of their positions, or if he was, he was far less self-conscious than he had been the previous morning.

"Jim," Spock coaxed.

"You're unreasonably comfy," Jim said into Spock's neck, voice muffled and slightly rough.

"As are you," Spock said. "However we must prepare for the day."

Jim suddenly groaned loudly and rolled off of Spock, leaving the startlingly cool air of Jim's room to wash over Spock. He shifted his head to look at Jim, who lay next to Spock with an arm thrown across his face, obscuring his eyes.

"Man, can I just... not have to do Captain-y stuff for one day?"

"I am afraid not, at least until shore leave or you are next injured."

"That's a terrible policy," Jim declared.

"And yet it is a policy that we must follow."

"I suppose," Jim muttered, but neither of them moved.

* * *

They were set to arrive at New Vulcan a little after 1500. It would be earlier on New Vulcan, probably just after breakfast, so the volunteers would have a whole day to work. Well, excepting high noon, where most would return to the ship for a nap and some food while they waited for the temperature to drop once more to acceptable levels.

Jim wasn't quite sure if he was anticipating or dreading it. Sure, he'd get to help out and Spock would maybe get an appointment with a trained healer, but there was Sarek to think about, too. He had confessed to the man that he was in love with Sarek's own child, someone who Sarek no doubt felt protective of. Sarek may have seemed accepting of the idea, but it had been a few days since their chat and Sarek might have changed his mind.

Jim resolutely ignored that concern. Everything was fine- he had woken up next to Spock for the second day in a row and had managed to be far less awkward about his octopus-ness than he had been on the first morning, Spock would be better soon, and he was going to get to help people until a new mission called his ship away.

Even the frantic final rush to prepare all the necessary supplies and then double and triple check _everything_ couldn't dampen Jim's mood. After all, the ship was bustling and full of life. His crew was more than ready to beam down and help as much as they could, and Jim couldn't have been prouder.

When the triple check had been completed, Jim called the senior staff for a meeting just to informally quadruple check. Bones was the last to arrive, scowling. He was probably the least excited of everyone on board, having been confined to routine, mundane, and generally easy tasks.

"Scotty," Jim said. "Is engineering ready?"

"Aye, sir," Scotty said, grinning widely. "We got just abou' anything you could ever need, and my crew is more 'n ready to help!"

"Good man, Scotty. Nyota?"

"Communications is ready, sir. We're all prepared to help wherever we can."

"Excellent. Sulu?"

"Tactical is ready for anything. We are prepared to supply all manpower necessary."

"Good job, Sulu. Spock?"

"Science division is prepared to assist in any way possible."

"Good. Bones?"

"Medical is ready to fix boo-boos," Bones said acerbically.

"Hopefully with a better bedside manner than that, but alright."

Jim looked around the room, grinning brightly. His staff, with the exception of Bones, all looked determined and confident.

"I have the best crew ever," he said. "Okay, let's go."

* * *

After all necessary greetings had occurred and the process of Enterprise assistance was discussed, Spock was pulled aside by his father.

"Father," Spock said, tucking his hands behind his back.

He had been dreading the encounter with his father since Jim had informed him that his father wanted to speak with him. For so many years, Spock had wanted to impress his father by being the perfect Vulcan. To have to socialize with his father in such an emotional state, with his shields so weak from the ha'karr's gift, was not something that Spock wanted to do at all.

"Spock," Sarek said. "Are you well?"

"...I am as well as can be expected."

"That is gratifying to hear."

Spock blinked, uncertain as to how to respond. Sarek raised his eyebrows.

"You are confused," he stated. "Speak your mind, child."

"My last memories of you aside from the rescue of the High Council from the surface of Vulcan-that-was is our estrangement. I do not understand your concern."

"When you were young," Sarek began, tone somehow less confident than it normally was, "I was... worried."

"Worried?" Spock asked. He had never before heard his father confess to any emotion, much less one like worry.

"Yes. I worried about how Vulcan society would treat you. I worried about your future. Mistakenly, I theorized that if you were to act fully Vulcan, Vulcan society would accept you. Despite all the obvious signs that it was not so, I persisted, and I stifled your human half. That, I believe, was my most severe error."

"Yet when I left to further pursue my human half, you scorned me."

"I had not yet accepted that I had erred. That revelation only came after your dear mother was killed, and I saw the grief that you tried desperately to stifle, ever desiring to be the perfect Vulcan, begin to poison you. The revelation was assisted by... former New High Council member, Selek."

"Nyota and Doctor McCoy spoke of him, once," Spock said. "They described him as strikingly human."

"Indeed he was," Sarek said, then added puzzlingly, "With no assistance from me."

"How long ago did we reestablish contact?" Spock inquired.

"Soon after Vulcan was destroyed, I reached out to you," Sarek said. "It was my mistake that drove you away, and I took it upon myself to attempt to mend the rift that had grown between us. I was most pleased when you expressed interest in reestablishing a relationship."

Spock wasn't sure how to respond to that.

"Your Captain expressed an interest in an appointment with a healer for you," Sarek said. "I concur. It would be beneficial to ensure that your mind is in order after this 'gift' had concluded."

"A logical course of action," Spock said. "However, the healers must be very busy with those who are highly unstable. An appointment would be months from now, and the Enterprise will no longer be here."

"As the savior of the majority of the High Council, and by extension Vulcan culture, you are given special treatment. The majority of the Enterprise's bridge crew is also given special treatment for their valiant attempts to save Vulcan-that-was and ultimately defeating Nero, Captain Kirk and Lieutenant Sulu in particular."

"I assume this means that you have scheduled an appointment with the mind healers that is within the time frame that the Enterprise will certainly be here?"

"You assume correctly. I have scheduled an appointment for you in five days."

Spock blinked. Five days was an extraordinarily short amount of time for an appointment with a healer, considering the trauma that the general population was suffering. Truly, the Vulcan people must have been thankful to- illogically- let his mind take precedence over thousands of others.

"That is an acceptable time. I will most likely be reverted by then."

"What is the process of reversion?" Sarek asked, clearly curious.

"I must confess the source of my reversion to a certain, but unspecified amount of people. After I have confessed to a person, I recall memories of that person the next time I sleep. When all necessary people have been confessed to, I will recall all memories and revert back to the physical state that I should be in, with an improved mental state."

"How many have you confessed to already?"

"Two, Captain Kirk and Lieutenant Uhura."

Surprisingly, talking to his father about his reversion was not as awkward as he had predicted it might be.

"Are you aware of how many others you must confess to?"

"I need only confess to one more person. For reasons I do not quite understand, my third person is Doctor McCoy."

Sarek raised his eyebrows.

"I must admit, I would not have expected that Doctor McCoy be someone who you need to confess to."

"I did not anticipate him, either," Spock admitted.

"He is, however, not entirely unexpected," Sarek continued. "Doctor McCoy is very good friends with Captain Kirk, a man who you grow to be close with, as well. It is understandable that you might also have grown somewhat attached to Doctor McCoy simply due to proximity."

"I do not look forward to my admission to him," Spock said. "He is highly emotional, and does not seem to like me."

"If he is highly emotional, would that not make him talented at understanding and accepting the emotionality of your confession?" Sarek asked.

Spock contemplated this. McCoy, as a doctor, had to be able to deal with emotionally sensitive situations in a calm and nonjudgmental manner. If they were close enough that Spock had to confess to McCoy, then surely McCoy would realize that Spock was uncomfortable being so emotionally open and respond accordingly. Perhaps, then, Sarek was correct.

"Perhaps," Spock said.

"I will not keep you any longer," Sarek said. "It is reliving that you are not unwell, Spock."

"Father," Spock said in parting. "Live long and prosper."

He didn't know why he had spoken the traditional parting words in Standard and not Vulcan. It had just seemed appropriate, somehow. Sarek, surprisingly, responded in kind.

"Peace and long life, child."

* * *

Jim had just finished a highly uncomfortable conversation with T'Pau, a severely intimidating old woman, when Spock found him. He padded silently across the sand, looking regal and perfectly comfortable in the stifling heat.

"Hey, Spock," Jim said, grinning. "How are you?"

"I am well, and you?"

"I could be better," Jim admitted. "I just got the pants intimidated off of me by T'Pau."

"You would be relieved to find that your pants are, in fact, still on your body," Spock said. Jim laughed. "Also, are you aware that T'Pau is my grandmother?"

"...She's your what?"

"T'Pau is the head of my clan, and my grandmother."

"No way."

"I do not know how to convince you, Jim."

"But... But-" Jim was at a loss for words. "But you're so... and she's so..."

"I am aware that I am not as intimidating as my grandmother," Spock said, raising an eyebrow, "but I did not believe that you would have such a difficult time believing our relation."

"She doesn't seem like the kind who would allow her son to marry a human," Jim said. "I would never have thought that she'd be related to you."

"She was most disapproving of my mother at first," Spock affirmed. "Her attitude was slow to change."

"Yeah, that makes sense."

"What were you discussing?"

"The use of crew." Jim shrugged. "Among other things."

"May I ask if the matter concerning Doctor M'Benga and potentially Doctor McCoy has been resolved?"

"Maybe?" Jim asked. "I talked to T'Mel and she seemed on the fence, so who knows at this point."

It hit Jim suddenly how hot he was. He swayed a little and tried to cool himself off by waving his hand.

"You appear fatigued from the heat," Spock observed. "Perhaps we should find a shaded place that will undoubtedly be cooler."

"I think it's just the sunlight," Jim said. "And this uniform. You'd think they'd make it breathable, but no dice, I guess."

Spock's confusion about Jim's choice of words was evident, but he stayed quiet and instead gestured to the mess hall perhaps a hundred yards behind Jim.

"The mess hall is shaded. You might feel better if you were to retreat to an area where you are not in direct sunlight."

The two of them fell into step together, Jim's footfall far louder than Spock's. When they were about halfway to the mess hall, Jim spoke again.

"This whole project might go easier if we were to work just in the morning, the evening, and at night," Jim mused. "There's still about two hours to high noon and every crew member I've seen has been pretty fatigued."

"Working at night risks disturbing the citizens of New Vulcan."

"We wouldn't do anything loud at night, of course," Jim said. "Or even close to the residential section. I just don't want any of my crew to have heat strokes."

"It would certainly be beneficial to the crew if they did not have to work in such extreme heat," Spock said. "However, the circadian rhythms of the crew would most likely be altered by this endeavor."

"Only for a couple days of the project and a couple days after."

Jim sighed heavily in relief when they entered the cafeteria, even if the temperature didn't drop enough for Jim to be fully comfortable.

"Man," Jim said, shaking his head. "I should be talking to Sulu about this. I keep forgetting that you- technically- aren't my first officer right now."

"That does not mean that you cannot ask me for advice," Spock said. "First officers are not the only crew members who can advise the captain."

"You're right," Jim said, nodding. He looked over at Spock and grinned. "But you'll be back at your normal posts soon enough."

"Perhaps as soon as tomorrow," Spock said. "If the events of today unfold in a fortunate manner."

"Perhaps," Jim echoed quietly, and hoped desperately that Spock was right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! From here on out is where everything picks up- it's the stuff I've been waiting and wanting to write since I first came up with the story for the idea. I'll also be updating on a faster schedule from now on, every five days instead of nine. I hope you enjoy this chapter!


	25. Chapter 25

Later that afternoon, after Spock had returned to the ship and then beamed back down with a good portion of the science division, he stood near the newly constructed VSA. Most of his people had been assigned to data work inside the VSA. He knew that the members of his division were thankful for this, as it kept them out of the heat.

"Commander Spock," a young Vulcan man said. He seemed slightly harried, as many did. "Our messaging systems are currently inoperable due to maintenance. You do not seem currently occupied- please deliver this to T'Mel. She is in the clinic that many _Enterprise_ crew members from the medical division have been assigned to."

"My attention is currently unoccupied," Spock said, holding out his hand and accepting the PADD dropped into it.

Spock then departed, not moving as fast as, perhaps, he should have been. The sun was pleasant and warm against his skin, and after so long on board a starship kept at human norm it was very welcome. Spock was, in fact, so distracted that he didn't notice the small human until they ran right into him.

"Oof!" the human child said, bouncing off of Spock and falling to the ground.

Spock stopped and looked down at the child, who quickly scrambled back to their feet. She seemed to be a female of perhaps eleven years, with dark brown hair up in a ponytail and tanned, freckled skin. Green eyes blinked up at Spock, and her small mouth parted in a big smile.

"Hello," she said, voice drawling in a familiar manner. She must have hailed from the southern United States of America, like Doctor McCoy. "Are you Commander Spock?"

"I am," Spock replied.

"Are the medical crew members down yet? Or is it just the science crew members?"

"Almost all _Enterprise_ crew are currently on New Vulcan."

Spock's statement made the girl smile even brighter, illogically happy. Perhaps she was one of many with crushes on Captain Kirk, or even him, although those belonging to the latter category were far fewer in number. However, she had asked about the medical personnel. She could have been one of those who idolized Doctor McCoy, a man who admittedly had many medical feats under his belt.

"So da- Doctor McCoy is here?" the girl asked, bouncing up and down but quickly restraining herself. Spock would have thought that she just idolized Doctor McCoy, like Spock had assumed, but her slip of the tongue was not unnoticed.

When Spock realized who he was talking to, he blinked, and then blinked again. He was entirely unsure as to how to proceed.

"...He is. If I may ask, are you Joanna McCoy?"

"I am," Joanna said, and her face then grew very somber. "You can't tell mama about any of this, though. She knows I'm here, but I didn't tell her that daddy would be here too. I told her I only wanted t' help the Vulcans, which is partially true, but I also want to meet my daddy."

"Does your father know that you are here?" Spock asked.

The anecdotes provided by Nyota were flashing through his mind, and Spock didn't think that it would end well if McCoy was- to his surprise- reunited with his daughter in a public place.

"No. I was just gonna show up at the clinic once the _Enterprise_ showed up."

"I do not believe that your idea is particularly wise," Spock said, careful not to be too blunt. Human children were emotionally fickle, and he didn't want to be responsible for her distress.

"Why not?"

"Confronting your father in a public place will most likely only surprise him. Perhaps you should wait until after dinner, when the majority of the crew will beam up."

"I s'pose," Joanna said glumly. She shuffled her feet, then looked up at him from under lowered lashes, her lips pouted. "But I don't remember daddy at all. I wanna make as many memories as I can before I have t'go back to Georgia. Mama never answers my questions about him and she'll never let me see him."

Spock felt- strangely- as if something were perhaps melting in his side, something warm.

"Come with me," he finally said.

Joanna brightened up and followed eagerly, reminiscent of a puppy. She skipped forward to be beside Spock, and managed to keep pace quite well despite the advanced heat and thinner air than Terran normal.

"Are you friends with my dad?" Joanna asked, not breathless in the slightest.

"...Perhaps. I am currently suffering from what might be called amnesia- I do not remember my relationship with your father beyond our relationship over these past few days."

"Oh."

"However," Spock continued, unable to leave Joanna with so little information, "From my interactions with your father, I have ascertained that he is a highly emotional being who cares deeply and is highly protective of those he cares about." Spock glanced at Joanna, who continued to keep pace and gazed up with glittering hope and excitement in her eyes. "He has a picture of you on his desk, although the picture was from before his divorce. I do not believe he knows what you currently look like."

"He has a picture of me?" Joanna asked breathlessly, stumbling over her feet for a moment before she regained her balance.

"Indeed." Spock contemplated his words before speaking again. "I believe the loss of you grieves him."

"Really?" Joanna asked wondrously. "Mama says he's an alcoholic and that he left because he didn't care about me and her. I wasn't sure if she was right, but I needed to see for myself. So when I saw the _Enterprise_ would be here for a volunteer mission, I begged mama to let me go. She's busy, so I'm here with Aunt Marie."

"Doctor McCoy may enjoy his liquor," Spock said, "but he is not an alcoholic. Starfleet doctors cannot be alcoholics."

"That's good," Joanna said. "Alcohol is gross."

"Indeed."

The two of them began to approach the clinic, and Spock stopped just outside the doors. He glanced at Joanna, and then the doors.

"I understand your reasoning for wanting to see your father sooner rather than later," Spock said. "However, surprising him during his work is not the best course of action."

Joanna frowned, looking up at Spock with beseeching eyes.

"That does not mean that I will not make you wait too long to see him."

Joanna brightened, spine straightening and beginning to smile.

"There is a back exit, which you should move towards once I enter the building. I will deliver this PADD to T'Mel," Spock told her, "and I will then ask Doctor McCoy to exit the building and meet you in the back, a place that is relatively secluded."

"Okay," Joanna said, smiling. "I can wait a couple more minutes!"

Before Spock could respond, she darted around the building and disappeared from sight. Spock stared after her for a moment before turning towards the door, wondering just how cruel a wife Doctor McCoy must have once taken to deprive McCoy and Joanna of each other.

* * *

Leonard let out a long, slow breath when the teenaged Vulcan boy he'd been treating left the clinic. The boy had been cold and standoffish- even for a Vulcan- clearly unhappy that he was being treated by a human. Leonard had kept his tongue, but only barely.

"I'm going to take a break before my emotionalism upsets any patients," Leonard muttered to his 'supervisor,' Selan.

"A moment, please, Doctor McCoy," called a familiar voice.

Leonard turned and found Spock approaching him. T'Mel stood by the doorway, a PADD in hand and a mildly disapproving look on her face as she gazed after him.

"Yes, Spock?" Leonard asked, trying to keep any irritation out of his voice.

"If you would please follow me," Spock said, and began to move towards the back exit.

Leonard rolled his eyes but followed, wondering if Spock had something to tell him about Jim or maybe his own reversion. He scowled as he stepped out into the intense heat, crossing his arms, but froze when he noticed the human girl standing outside. He looked from the girl to Spock, and then blinked a couple of times.

"Spock?" He asked. "Is... Is she hurt, or somethin'?"

"I'm not hurt," the girl said, and Leonard raised his eyebrows when he heard her accent, so familiar to his own.

"No? Then why-"

"Mister Spock said you probably didn't know what I looked like now," the girl said jokingly, something frighteningly fragile about her grin. "But I had hoped you would, even if your most recent holo of me is nearin' eleven years old."

A sudden wave of vertigo crashed over Leonard as he realized just who he was talking to. He brought a shaking hand up to cover his mouth and just stared for a moment.

His baby girl, his Joanna, stood before him in the flesh. Her skin was tan, like his own had once been before he'd gone to space, and freckles dappled her cheeks. Green eyes that reminded him of his mother gazed back at him, steady but terrified, and hair the color of his own was pulled back from her face in the extreme heat. He couldn't have asked for a more beautiful child, and here she- finally- was.

"Joey?" he finally asked hoarsely, pulling his hand from his mouth.

"Yeah," Joanna whispered.

"Oh my stars."

"I-" Joanna swallowed hard. "Mama said I could do whatever I wanted for my birthday this year 'cause we didn't do anythin' last year, and I saw that your ship was gonna be here and volunteers were welcome, so I told mama that I wanted to help the Vulcans and she let me go with Aunt Marie-"

"Jocelyn doesn't know I'm here?" Leonard asked.

"She might eventually," Joanna said. "But not yet."

"I- Darlin', won't you get in trouble when your mama finds out?"

"I don't care," Joanna said, scowling. The gesture was so familiar that it almost startled a laugh out of Leonard. "She said you're mean and an alcoholic and you left 'cause you didn't love us, but she clearly lied, so I don't care."

Nausea swept through Leonard, weakening his knees. He looked at Joanna in horror.

"She- She said that 'bout me?" He prayed that Joanna had missed how his voice had cracked, but from the look in her eyes he hadn't been so lucky. "And you came to meet me anyways?"

"I needed to know if she was lyin' to me," Joanna said simply. "And she was. Mister Spock says you care a lot, and that you have a holo of me in your office, and that alcoholics can't be CMO." She smiled at him suddenly, and it was somehow brighter than anything he'd seen before.

Hot tears welled up in Leonard's eyes without warning, and he brought up his hands to roughly scrub them away. When he cleared his vision and his tears, he saw that Joanna's eyes had welled up, too.

"Oh, baby, don't cry," he said in a thick voice. He knelt down and tentatively held out his arms. "C'mere, darlin'."

Joanna let out a small sob and rushed towards him, throwing her small arms around his neck. The force of her knocked him back into a sitting position, Joanna on his lap. Leonard pressed a kiss to her hair, and Joanna buried her face in his neck.

"Oh, baby," Leonard said. "I love you so much."

Joanna hiccuped and clutched him tighter. She smelled like sweat, but it was somehow the sweetest thing that Leonard had ever smelled.

It struck Leonard suddenly that Spock had been the one to bring Leonard to her, had somehow known about Joanna before Leonard. When he looked up to thank him, however, the half-Vulcan was nowhere to be seen.

"Daddy," Joanna said into his neck. She sounded so vulnerable that it caused Leonard's chest to ache. "Why did mama lie about you?"

"I don't know, baby girl," Leonard replied, hardly able to force the words past the lump in his throat. "I just don't know."

"She lied about everythin' else," Joanna said, sniffing. "Did she lie about you leavin', too?"

"Yeah, darlin', she did."

Joanna fell quiet for a minute, and Leonard was content to just sit and hold her, feeling her chest rise and fall and her heart beat.

"...She took you to court, didn't she?" Joanna finally asked. "And one of her friends made sure that you didn't ever get to see me."

Leonard just nodded, on the verge of tears once more. Joanna let out a tiny sob and clung tighter to Leonard.

"I hate her."

"No, darlin'," Leonard said, but it was half-hearted. "Don't say that. She's your mama."

"I do," Joanna protested. "She's never around, and she doesn't let me do stuff I like because it's not 'ladylike', and when I try to tell her about my day or issues I'm having she doesn't ever really pay attention, and she lied about you my whole life, tellin' me you're a terrible person and left 'cause you didn't care when she _made_ you leave and you care more than she does, and, and..."

Joanna dissolved into small, hiccuping sobs again. Leonard squeezed his eyes shut again, but a few tears leaked out anyways. He could feel his skin beginning to burn without sunscreen, but he couldn't have cared less.

"Oh, darlin'," Leonard murmured. "Darlin', I'm so sorry. I should've- I should've fought harder, but I was hurtin' real bad and I figured that it'd be easier if I didn't draw it out long enough that you'd remember. I never wanted you to resent your mama."

"I don't resent her for that," Joanna said, and then, "No, I do." She finally lifted her head so she could look Leonard in the eyes, and the sunlight reflected off of the sheen in her eyes and the tear tracks down her cheeks. "Why did she hate you? I thought people got married because they love each other."

"We did, once," Leonard said, raising a hand to wipe Joanna's cheeks. "I just... She got upset that I wasn't payin' enough attention to her and you when my daddy died."

"That's stupid," Joanna protested, scowling. "She shoulda let you grieve."

"I can't argue with that, darlin'." He smiled, then, and raised his other hand to cup her face. "But why don't we talk about other stuff for a bit before I have to go back to work, huh?"

"Okay," Joanna said, nodding and smiling back at him. "I- I'm in seventh grade, now. I skipped third grade. I'm on the track team, and I've got lots of friends from there. There's Kaylee, and Michael, and Th'Oran, and Elliran, and Morgan... I really like science- I wanna be a doctor when I grow up, just like you."

"That's fantastic, baby girl," Leonard said. He thought his heart might burst from all the joy it had filled up with. "I'm sure you'll make a brilliant doctor."

"I really like animals," Joanna continued. "I want a horse, and a cat or a dog. Kaylee has a golden retriever named Dustin and he's super cute, I go over to her house all the time." She stopped for a moment, head tilted thoughtfully, before she continued with a grin. "Mister Spock is kinda like a cat, isn't he? He's really quiet, and he's got pointed ears, and he acts aloof but he's secretly really nice."

"Yeah," Leonard mused. "He is, isn't he?"

Soft footsteps alerted Leonard and Joanna to a new presence, and they looked to find Jim coming around the side of the building. He stopped, blinking, and then frowned.

"Bones, are you okay? Spock said I would find you here. You look like you've been crying, and so does the girl."

"Jim," Leonard said. "Meet- Meet Joanna."

Jim's eyes widened, mouth falling open slightly. His gaze became fixed on Joanna, and then, slowly, he smiled.

"Bones," he said. "She looks so much like you, oh my stars."

"I do?" Joanna asked, brightening.

"You do," Jim said. He laughed and walked closer, then sat down on the ground next to them. "This is wild. Not that I'm not happy, but how is she here?"

"Mama let me come help the Vulcans for my birthday," Joanna said. "She didn't know that daddy would be here, and I didn't tell her."

"Sneaky, I like it."

"Thank you," Joanna said proudly. "I'm really smart for my age."

"I can tell," Jim said, nodding.

Leonard glanced down at his watch and grimaced, then patted Joanna's side.

"Baby girl," he said, "I gotta get up. My break's over."

Joanna pouted but clambered off of his lap. Leonard stood and then pulled her into another embrace, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. She squeezed tight around his middle before letting go and stepping back.

"Why don't you follow Jim around?" he suggested. "I'll come find both of you once my shift is done, and then we can all have dinner together."

"And Mister Spock, too?" Joanna asked, grinning.

"If you'd like, darlin'."

Joanna bounced up and down, nodding enthusiastically. Leonard smiled, and noticed that Jim, too, was beaming down at her.

Jim stepped forward and clapped Leonard on the shoulder, grinned, and then said quietly, "We're all gonna be wrapped around her little fingers by the end of our stay, aren't we?"

"Probably," Leonard conceded.

"Alrighty, Jo-Jo," Jim said, stepping back. "Let's go hunt down T'Ralin."

"Who's that, Captain Kirk?" Joanna asked, following Jim as he began to walk away.

"Call me Jim," Jim said. "And T'Ralin is one of the High Council members."

Leonard watched until they disappeared around the corner of the building, a fond smile on his face, and then turned and re-entered the building. No matter how stubborn any of his patients may be, he doubted they could put even the slightest dent in his jubilant mood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I'm in the home stretch for school- only three weeks left- but it's not quite over yet! At least I'll have updating to look forward to in order to keep myself from succumbing to end-of-school-apathy and tanking my math grade. I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, and don't be afraid to tell me if you did!


	26. Chapter 26

"I think," Jim said to Joanna. "That it's time for a break. How about it?"

"Okay," Joanna said happily. "I found a really pretty canyon a couple days ago, can we go there?"

"Sure thing, bunny."

Joanna smiled wide. She adored Jim's nickname for her, earned because she bounced around so much, 'like a little bunny.' He was incredibly nice, nicer than her and Kaylee had ever predicted while they giggled quietly during sleepovers. She had partially expected him to only tolerate her because she was a kid, and his CMO's kid at that, but he seemed to genuinely like her.

They turned to leave the VSA, where Jim had been talking to one of the High Council members. Joanna wasn't looking forward to emerging once more into the scorching heat, even if high noon had passed. She was thankful, then, when the High Council member called after them.

"I would speak with thee privately, Captain Kirk," T'Ralin said.

Jim glanced at her, then Joanna.

"I'll just stand by the door," Joanna said.

"Okay." Jim nodded and walked over to T'Ralin.

Their conversation was brief, and soon enough Jim rejoined her. She had been zoning out, staring at the shimmering red sands beyond the doorway. Jim alerted her to his presence by laying a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"Ready to go, bunny?"

"Ready," Joanna said.

She beamed at him, knowing that it would elicit a bright smile in response. The pattern held true, and Jim did indeed smile in return, his bright blue eyes crinkling around the edges.

"Let's go then."

"What did T'Ralin talk to you about?" Joanna inquired as they walked. She was leading, Jim trailing half a step behind. "Was it secret?"

"Not really," Jim said. "She said that it was 'most gratifying' to see young people assisting in the relief effort."

Joanna flushed with pride, invisible under her tan and the flush borne from heat. Jim must have read her awkward acceptance in the ducking of her head, though, because he laughed and patted her on the shoulder.

"Your dad is bad at accepting compliments, too," he said.

Joanna looked up at him. It hadn't yet occurred to her to ask Jim about her father, but...

"You're best friends with my daddy, right?"

"I sure am, bunny."

"Can you tell me about him?"

Jim looked shocked but pleased to be asked such a question, but then smiled brightly before nodding.

"Sure thing," he said. "D'you wanna know how he got his nickname?"

Joanna nodded enthusiastically.

"Okay," Jim said grinning. "This is top secret information- nobody but Bones and I know."

For several moments he was silent, and then he began to talk.

"I met your father on the shuttle to Starfleet Academy. He was holed up in the tiny, windowless bathroom of the shuttle because of his aviophobia. When he was eventually dragged out, he sat in the seat next to me. Him and I were the only two on the shuttle not in uniform, and we both looked pretty rough.

"He started ranting about the dangers of space, scaring the crap out of several nearby cadets with his gruesome images. When I told him that, unfortunately, Starfleet operates in space, he told me that he had nowhere else to go. He said his wife had taken everything in the divorce, and told me 'all I've got left is my bones.'

"So Bones it was, because calling him Leonard made me feel like his mom. I started calling him Bones our first day at the Academy. He hated it at first, but I wouldn't relent. He eventually got used to it, and..." Jim shrugged. "Here we are, I guess."

"Mama took everythin' and me," Joanna said. She frowned.

"I think you _were_ everything," Jim said. He must have been able to see the sorrow on her face, because he added, "Don't be too sad about it, bunny. It's not all bad- Bones helps so many people, working for Starfleet."

"That's true," Joanna said, her mood lifting. "Tell me more?"

"There was one time that Bones managed to catch an alternate version of me who was trying to impersonate the me from this universe because the other me didn't call him Bones," Jim said, smiling. "He was really a good actor- he fooled Spock, even, and Uhura too, but he fu- messed up when he called Bones 'McCoy.' He was in sickbay when he did it, too." Jim shook his head. "The guy never had a chance. Before he could blink, Bones had a hypo full of sedatives and that was that."

"If he was in your place," Joanna said, "were you in his?"

Jim's face darkened.

"Yeah," he said, and didn't elaborate.

"What other stories do you have?" Joanna asked, tugging on Jim's sleeve to pull him out of whatever dark thoughts he was in danger of sinking in to.

"I've got plenty, bunny." Jim smiled at her, although his eyes were still too dark. "What do you want to hear about?"

"What's my dad like?"

"...He's gruff," Jim said, "and blunt, and sarcastic, but that's how she shows that he cares. Like when I get roughed up, he always grumbles at me and calls me an idiot as he fixes me. When he gets really upset, that's when he's quiet.

"He'll yell at adults all day for doing stupid things, and even teenagers sometimes, but he's always very patient with children. He's also very patient with distraught people- like when Vulcan was destroyed, Bones was very patient with the Vulcans on board who were in shock and a lot of mental pain.

"He takes his duty as a doctor very seriously. He's never once refrained from helping an injured person, even if it ends in him almost dying or- one time- some severe repercussions from a species with a strong belief in 'survival of the fittest.'"

"He sounds awesome," Joanna said, smiling brightly.

She was both happy and sad at the same time, a rather odd and confusing feeling. It was amazing to know that her father was such a good person, held in high esteem by someone as famous as Captain Kirk, but at the same time it was saddening. She shouldn't have had to get that information from Jim, should've grown up knowing his patience and his dedication to healing for herself, should never have had to ask. The bittersweetness mixed in her chest with a small bud of resentment for her mother, who had deprived her of her own father for no good reason.

"What're you thinking about, bunny?"

"I shouldn't have had to ask you about him," Joanna said, frowning. "I should've known all that myself."

"I know," Jim said quietly. "I know."

Sudden irritation flared in Joanna, assisted by the heat. Surely Jim Kirk couldn't know what she felt. His words couldn't be anything more than pity.

"No you don't." She scowled at the ground, head down as she trudged forward.

"I do," Jim said. "In case you've forgotten, my dad died the minute I was born. I never knew him. I had to rely on stories from my grandparents, because my brother was too young when he died to really remember him all that well and my mother refused to ever talk about him."

Jim turned to look at her, face suddenly serious. She flushed with embarrassment, but was pleased that he spoke like he was addressing an equal instead of treating her like a child.

"You got to meet your father, get to make memories." Jim averted his eyes, staring into a middle distance. "I never got that," he said quietly.

"I'm sorry," Joanna said quietly.

"It's okay," Jim said. "I know you're probably upset that your mom kept you from your dad, right?"

Joanna looked up at him and nodded slowly. How could he have known?

"I felt the same way about my mother," Jim said, as if he could read her mind. "She kept my father from me, although in a different way than your mother. She kept the memories she could share with me to herself, kept me in the dark about my own father when he died- in part- to save me."

"Do you hate her?" Joanna asked voice small. Some part of her wanted her feelings toward her mother validated, but another part wanted them ridiculed so she could crush them.

"Hate? No, not really. I don't love her, but I don't hate her, either, although I used to."

"What changed that?"

"I understood her. I understood that she was hurting badly, that it pained her beyond belief to talk about him. I understood that I looked too much like him, and that's why she could hardly bear to look at me."

Joanna looked up in surprise. She hadn't realized that Jim hadn't had a perfect childhood. She never would have guessed that his own mother had hardly been able to look at him.

"I still look too much like him," Jim said offhandedly. "But Winona... she's trying. She's trying to be able to look at me and see me, not a dead man."

"I don't think I'll ever be able to forgive mama," Joanna said darkly. "Her reasonin' for divorcin' him was pure baloney."

"It was," Jim admitted. "It was a terrible reason. But... you can't let that cause a rift between you two. You'll regret it."

Joanna meant to reply, but then recognized their surroundings. The canyon lay about a seventy meters ahead, and was not deserted as it had always been before.

"We're here," Joanna said. "But there's someone else here." She frowned. "It's always been deserted before."

"Well, why don't you go say hi?" Jim said. "She looks about your age."

The Vulcan did indeed appear to be around eleven, with shiny black hair pulled up in a simple but elegant hairdo and a pale robe that was dusty from her trek through the sand. Joanna was quiet in her approach, but she heard her anyways and turned around.

"Hello," she said. "...I was unaware that others knew of this place."

"So was I," Joanna said, moving to stand next to her a few feet from the drop. "I'm Joanna."

"I am T'Mira."

Her eyes were almost black, but they seemed oddly warm for being such a dark color. Joanna gave her a small smile, careful not to be too emotional. Her Vulcan teacher had said that Vulcans didn't like excessive displays of emotion.

"What're you doing out here?" Joanna asked.

"I could ask you the same question," T'Mira said, raising an eyebrow. She turned away to face the canyon and the desert beyond. "This place helps me find solace."

"I come out here to think," Joanna said. "And to enjoy the view."

"It is a very pretty view," Jim said. He lingered a couple feet behind them, not too close.

T'Mira turned, and Joanna thought she saw her eyes widen slightly in response. That was odd, considering Vulcans were never supposed to show emotions and generally refused to admit that they had them.

"Captain Kirk," T'Mira said. She bowed her head. "It is an honor to meet you."

"Oh, no need for formalities," Jim said. "Call me Jim."

"Jim," T'Mira said hesitantly. "Our colony is honored by your presence."

"I don't know why," Jim said. "I couldn't save Vulcan-that-was."

"You defeated Nero, however." T'Mira said.

"Not without help," Jim protested.

"Of course," T'Mira said. "Your crew is also most honored by our people."

"How honored is 'honored'?" Joanna asked.

"Pretty honored," Jim muttered.

The shrill, piercing cry of a bird shocked all three out of their conversation. Joanna frowned and moved closer to the edge to try and look down into it.

"Careful," Jim warned. "Your dad would kill me if you fell in there, Hippocratic Oath be damned."

"I know," Joanna said.

A wind blew across Joanna's skin, helping to cool her somewhat. The canyon wasn't too deep, but it would be pretty bad if one were to fall in. Thankfully, Joanna had never been afraid of heights. Shaking her head, Joanna turned back to Jim and T'Mira.

"That sounded really close," she said. "But it's weird. I didn't see anyth-"

Joanna cut herself off, silent in horror as the dry ground crumbled beneath her. She saw Jim's eyes widen in shock, mouth beginning to fall open, and the shock in T'Mira's eyes was crystal clear, Vulcan or not. Joanna thought for a moment that her heart had stopped from the terror coursing through her body.

T'Mira moved first, and Joanna felt a hot hand around her wrist as she began to fall. The young Vulcan wasn't strong enough to arrest Joanna's momentum, however, and she felt it when T'Mira, too, lost her footing.

_No,_ Joanna thought _. No, no, why would you do that?_

"Joanna!"

That was Jim, and a moment later their fall halted for a second as he grabbed T'Mira's arm. Jim, human Jim, was no match for the weight of a pair of human and Vulcan eleven year olds and their combined momentum. He, too, was pulled in after them.

Joanna tried to scream but it got caught in her throat, the wind robbing her of breath as it rushed past her.

_I'm going to die,_ she thought _,_ and then _, please, let it be fast._

A pair of strong arms wrapped around her, and Joanna found herself pressed tight against T'Mira. It must have been Jim, then, pulling them both into a mockery of a bear hug. Then they began to turn, and Joanna realized just what Jim planned to do.

_No, no, no!_

But by the time Joanna could have moved, it was far too late. They hit the ground hard, Jim acting as a human cushion for T'Mira and Joanna. Both T'Mira and Joanna both let out small, pained cries, but Jim was frighteningly silent.

Joanna rolled off, laying on the ground to catch her breath. T'Mira followed suit, but recovered quicker and turned to check on Jim, who lay between them.

"Joanna," T'Mira said, voice carrying just enough fright to instill fresh terror into her. "Joanna, the Captain is unconscious."

"He's what?" Joanna pushed herself up on shaking arms, ignoring the fiery ache in her wrist that meant she'd most likely broken it. "No."

But he was. Between them on the ground, Captain James Tiberius Kirk lay unresponsive. His left leg and right arm were clearly and severely broken, and there was a small pool of blood beginning to grow from under his head. The rock just to the right of his head, the top shining red, had to have been the culprit.

"Jim?" Joanna asked. Her voice cracked, but she ignored it. "Jim, please wake up." He didn't respond to the pat on his shoulder and the subsequent pat on the cheek. There wasn't even a twitch of his eyelids to betray consciousness.

"We should not move him," T'Mira said. "He may have a broken back or internal bleeding."

"Right," Joanna said. "Okay."

The situation seemed unreal. Surely this was all some vivid, twisted scene her imagination created. She had to still be standing at the top of the canyon, right? Jim was right behind her, T'Mira to her right. There was no way she was really at the bottom of a canyon with Jim laying unconscious and bleeding.

Joanna moved wrong and the pain in her wrist flared again, making her whimper. No, this was no dark fantasy.

"One of us needs to climb up the canyon and go find help," Joanna said.

"Indeed."

"You can breathe better than me here. Can you stand?"

T'Mira tried to push herself to her feet, but as soon as she tried to put weight on her right ankle she collapsed, crying out. She took deep breaths and shook her head.

"I cannot stand," she said. "I cannot climb nor run for help. I also-" She let out a short, sharp grunt. "I also believe I have broken a rib, or multiple."

"I think I only broke my wrist," Joanna said, and stood. "I can probably climb."

"I will remain here with Captain Kirk," T'Mira said. She looked around and then grabbed a sizeable rock from nearby. "If a predator attempts to attack us, I will..." She stared at the rock as if she wished it would turn into a phaser. "I will throw a rock at it."

"Will that work?" Joanna asked.

T'Mira looked up at Joanna. Her eyes were dark with fear and pain, her face marred by a cut on her forehead and large blooming bruise on one of her fine cheekbones where Joanna's head had connected with her face. However, there something like determination or maybe faith in the set of her jaw, flickering in her eyes.

"I have excellent aim."

Joanna laughed quietly, ignoring the pain in her chest that indicated a rib injury of her own. She began to head towards the side of the cliff they'd fallen from, and when she got to the bottom she stopped and looked up.

The cliff looked incredibly tall from where Joanna stood, and she wondered how they'd ever survived the fall, especially so intact. Joanna glanced back at Jim, sprawled across the stony, sandy ground. Maybe not so intact, then.

Joanna took a deep breath to brace herself, told herself very firmly to ignore the pain in her wrist and ribs, and began to climb.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know what you're all going to say, and before you can, I'M SORRY. My fingers worked faster than my brain. I'll make it up to you all somehow. The next chapter will be up in five days, and I plan on posting a pretty angsty fic on June 22nd- totally seperate from this story- if you'd like to check that out!


	27. Chapter 27

Joanna staggered towards the clinic, pained sobs causing her shallow breaths to hitch. She had thought earlier that she might pass out from pain, or lack of oxygen, or both. Her wrist probably hadn't been broken badly, but the agonizing climb out of the canyon had to have increased the severity of the break. She had to have broken or at least bruised some ribs in the fall as well. Each breath was cut short by the stabbing pain, and climbing had been excruciating.

All she could think of was getting to her father and then getting him back to the canyon where Jim and T'Mira were waiting. Terror that a predator would try to attack them or that Jim was bleeding in his brain and would die without quick attention propelled her.

When the clinic doors slid open, she let out a small sob of relief. Within a moment, everyone in the small clinic lobby, patients included, had turned to stare at her. Her father was among them, eyes widening when he saw her condition. Scraped hands and knees, a bump on her head that was probably pretty impressive, tears streaking her face, which was red from not getting enough oxygen. All together, she spared a moment to think, she must have been quite a sight.

"Darlin'," Leonard said hoarsely. "Oh, darlin', what's going on?" There was a pause, and Joanna saw the moment when her father figured out the bigger issue. "Where's Jim?"

She tried to respond, but her breath wouldn't come. Fear only made her tears worse, which lessened her ability to breathe.

"Chapel, oxygen," her father snapped.

Cool, steady hands were on her face within moments, settling a mask over her nose and mouth. The same gentle hands then shifted to her back, rubbing as they drew her away from the door.

"Deep breaths," a soothing female voice said. "Come on, deep breaths, sweetheart."

It took nearly a minute, but Joanna finally calmed down enough to be able to speak, even if her voice wasn't loud.

"Jim's hurt bad," she said. "I- I was showin' him the canyon I like to go to and there was a Vulcan girl named T'Mira, and I fell in and she tried to catch me and then she fell and then Jim tried to catch both of us and we all fell and he hit his head and-"

" _Breathe_ ," Chapel reminded her, stern but not unkind.

"And he wouldn't wake up," Joanna said, her voice breaking on a sob. "T'Mira broke her leg so I had to come get help. I can- I can show you how to get there-"

"I know the way to the canyon," interrupted an adult male Vulcan. Joanna looked at him, scrutinizing.

"Are you T'Mira's dad?" Joanna asked.

"I am."

"She's- She's okay, 'sides a broken leg and a few broken ribs."

"Darlin', tell me all you can about what happened with Jim," her father said.

"He-" Joanna fought the urge to burst into tears again. "He acted as a cushion for me an' T'Mira when we fell. He broke and arm and a leg pretty badly, and he hit his head on a rock." Fighting the tears was useless, and Joanna began to sob again, each heaving breath like a knife in her chest. "He- He was bleedin' from his head and he wasn't conscious."

Leonard swallowed hard, obviously distraught by the news. He straightened up, and before turning around he looked to the nurse still standing with a hand on Joanna's shoulder.

"Chapel," he said. "Take care of my daughter."

If Chapel was fazed by the fact that Joanna was her boss' child, she didn't show it.

"Yes, sir," she replied. "Come on, Joanna, let's get you checked out, treat your sunburn and any injuries you might have."

Joanna didn't ask how Chapel knew her name, allowing the nurse to lead her to a small room and lift her on to the bed, since she could hardly move her arm for the pain at that point. Even with the door shut, she could hear her father yelling through it, demanding this medicine, and that medicine, and a stretcher and rope, and for some Vulcans to accompany him, T'Mira's dad among them. The yelling was comforting, letting her know that she'd done her job and help was on the way for both Jim and T'Mira.

"Miss Chapel?"

"Yes, Joanna?"

Chapel wasn't looking at her, instead rummaging through a cabinet with some medicine in it, mumbling under her breath about how disorganized the Vulcan clinics were for such logical people. She was facing away from Joanna, but her hair was a pale blonde, swept into an elegant, twisted updo.

"How'd you know my name?"

"He's got a baby picture of you in his office. I asked about it once."

"Oh."

"Where are you hurt, honey?"

"My wrist. And my ribs, I think."

When Chapel took Joanna's wrist gently in her hand, the broken one obvious from the redness and swelling, Joanna bit her lip to keep back a pained cry. Chapel ran a scanner over Joanna's wrist and shook her head.

"Your break probably wasn't bad at first, but you've severely worsened it. What did you do?"

"I had to climb out of the canyon. T'Mira couldn't even stand, and Jim was unconscious."

"You're very brave," Chapel said. "It couldn't have been easy."

"It wasn't."

Chapel began to set up an IV, and Joanna took a deep breath. She could deal with blood and needles when other people were concerned, but when the blood was hers or the needles were to be injected into her, she got nauseous and slightly squeamish. When Chapel asked for her uninjured arm, it shook from a mix of nerves and dehydration when she held it out, squeezing her eyes shut.

There was a tingling hum as Chapel ran a sterilizer over the skin on the inside of her elbow. A pinching sting followed it, and Joanna told herself to remember to breathe.

"This might make you sleepy," Chapel said, "But I don't want you to sleep until I've determined that you don't have a concussion from that bump to your head. If you do have a concussion, I'll need to give you something to keep you awake."

"Okay," Joanna said.

Already there was a drowsy tug pulling at her, making it a little harder to keep her eyes open. She fought it off, blinking hard and focusing on trying to read the poster on the far wall. It was in Vulcan, which she knew some of but not a ton because she was only in Intro to Vulcan, so the challenge kept her brain awake.

Chapel picked up a tricorder and began to scan her with it. After a few seconds Chapel nodded and then set it down next to Joanna on the medical bed.

"No concussion," she said. "That's good. You can sleep now, if you want. I can mend your wrist and give you something for your dehydration while you sleep. It'll also help with your exhaustion."

Joanna nodded, giving up on trying to read the Vulcan. It was beyond her current skills. She could tell her teacher that she had at least tried to read Vulcan while on New Vulcan. The poster had been about something boring like keeping your hands sanitary anyways.

The bed wasn't too uncomfortable, and the medicine that Chapel had given her made it easy to fall asleep. It was a gradual slide into sleep, all senses of the room fading slowly until she was no longer awake.

She woke up before the crew sent out to collect T'Mira and Jim returned. Her wrist still hurt a little, but it had to be healed because there was nothing on her wrist helping it heal. Her dehydration shakes and headache were gone, and she could breathe a lot easier.

"How long was I asleep?" Joanna asked when Chapel entered the room no more than a minute later.

"Maybe thirty minutes," Chapel said. "Your father should be back any moment, now."

As if on cue, faint shouting began, coming from the lobby. Any words were indecipherable, but Joanna could detect a loud southern drawl. Chapel turned towards the door almost like it was an instinctual reaction.

"That's not good," she murmured, and raced out of the room.

Joanna, naturally, followed.

The lobby was pure chaos. By the door, T'Mira's father stood with her cradled in his arms. Her face was pale with pain, lips tight, but she wasn't crying, if Vulcans even could. When she made eye contact with Joanna, she nodded in thanks. Joanna gave her a small smile in return.

In the center of the lobby, though, was were the true chaos was. Two Vulcans held a stretcher that Jim was laying on, still unconscious. His arm and leg were splinted, neck in a brace and a large absorbent pad under his head, stained with blood. His skin was a sickly shade under his sunburn, and he was covered in cuts and bruises. Leonard stood by Jim's stretcher, arguing very loudly with T'Mel.

"We are not equipped to treat Captain Kirk here," T'Mel said, tone frigid. "We are a clinic. He needs to be taken to the hospital."

"He's not going to make it to the hospital!" Leonard yelled, fury in every line of his body. His face was red, fists clenched. "If I can't at least stabilize him here, Jim is going to die. Do you really want the death of a Federation hero and Starfleet's favorite captain on your hands? Do you?"

Joanna felt her stomach drop to her feet, cold wracking her body. Jim could die? Jim was in mortal peril because he had saved her life, and T'Mira's? He couldn't possibly... He couldn't die. He was _Captain_ _Kirk_.

"He is correct," T'Mira's father said. "If Captain Kirk does not receive immediate treatment, he will die."

T'Mel still didn't look like she was going to waver, locked into a standoff with Leonard, and Joanna felt the sudden urge to burst into tears and beg T'Mel to let her father work. Why didn't T'Mel seem to care about Jim's life? He was so kind, and compassionate, and selfless. Who could possibly deny him help just because they didn't have the supplies for his entire treatment?

"Ko-mekh-al," T'Mira said, speaking up for the first time. "He saved my life."

That seemed to get T'Mel's attention, and after a few long, tense moments, she spoke.

"Stabilize him here," she told Leonard. "Once he is able to be transported to the hospital, do so."

"Fine," Leonard snapped.

Her father and the two Vulcans carrying Jim rushed by them, as well as all available nurses and doctors, Chapel among them.

"Why don't you go with T'Mira to the hospital?" Chapel suggested before she vanished.

So she did. She followed T'Mira's father, who tried his best not to jostle T'Mira's leg as they walked.

"Thank you for going to get help," T'Mira said after a few minutes of walking in silence.

"Of course," Joanna said. "Jim woulda died if I hadn't, and he's the one who saved us."

"Indeed."

"I find it unexpected that Captain Kirk would have sacrificed himself for two children," T'Mira's father said. "However, I am grateful."

"If he wouldn't," Joanna said, not sure where the words she was speaking were coming from. "Then my father wouldn't be friends with him."

"Do you know your father well?" T'Mira's father asked.

"Well," Joanna said. "I only met him today. But I think I know that much."

"You look similar to one another," T'Mira said. "You also both keep calm in stressful situations, an admirable trait for any."

"Calm?" She'd only been 'calm' because she'd been in shock. Not that she would admit that, though. "Yeah, I s'pose."

"Is your wrist much improved?" T'Mira asked.

"Yeah. I didn't have a concussion, so I slept because the medicine made me sleepy. While I was asleep, Nurse Chapel fixed my wrist and treated my dehydration and sunburn." She huffed out a laugh, slightly difficult in the thin air. "I woke up just before y'all got back."

"I apologize for my mother's treatment of your father," T'Mira's father said. "She has clung tighter to the rules of logic than she ever has in the aftermath of the destruction of Vulcan-that-was."

Joanna thought about her own mother, and how she had scowled upon hearing that Joanna wanted to become a doctor, like it was a dirty and distasteful profession. She smiled up at T'Mira's father.

"It's okay," she said. "I understand."

When they finally reached the hospital, T'Mira was whisked away almost immediately. Joanna was left in the lobby with T'Mira's father, and suddenly was quite unsure about what she should do.

"You appear fatigued," T'Mira's father said. "Come, sit."

They wandered over to a couple of chairs that lined the walls and sat down to wait. Joanna sat still for a few moments, trying not to fidget. Finally, she looked over at T'Mira's father.

"What's your name?" she asked. "I can't just keep callin' you T'Mira's father."

"Seril. What is your name?"

"Joanna."

"You are very brave, Joanna. Your journey to father help must have been painful."

"It was. I had to climb the canyon wall with a broken wrist and then run to get help with a busted rib or two in a thinner atmosphere than I'm used to. I near collapsed more than once."

"I must thank you," Seril said. "T'Mira is my only remaining child after the destruction of Vulcan-that-was. To lose her would be unthinkable."

Joanna flushed with awkward pride.

"I get it," she said. "I had a baby brother, but then he died. Mama's been kinda protective of me ever since. It doesn't make sense, though, because he didn't die _doin_ ' anything. He just got sick."

"Oftentimes the reasonings of parents do not make sense until you yourself are a parent," Seril said. "Sometimes, however, their reasonings never make sense to us."

"Like why Mama's keeping me from my dad," Joanna said sourly. "She said he's a terrible alcoholic who never loved me, but..." She looked up at Seril. "You saw how he was, right?"

"I did," Seril affirmed. "He seems to care a great deal about you."

"He does," Joanna said, thinking about her father's arms tight around her and his tears dampening her hair.

In the silence afterwards, Joanna's thoughts drifted to Jim. She would continually glance at the door, wondering when a flurry of activity would burst through it as a stabilized Jim was taken to a room so her father could finish healing him. The seconds seemed to stretch by like a small eternity, and Joanna resisted the urge to fidget as best she could.

Finally, she heard her father's voice as they approached the door. Jim was on a new stretcher, and his skin looked pink with burns but not health. He was still unconscious, entirely unaware of what was going on.

"I need a room for Captain Kirk immediately," her father snapped.

At the sound of 'Captain Kirk,' the hospital staff seemed to be falling over themselves in a very logical, Vulcan way to get Jim a room. He disappeared through the doors into the main part of the hospital, and Joanna breathed a sigh of relief. Seril also seemed to relax some.

Mere moments after Jim disappeared, Spock burst into the lobby, eyes a little too wide and mouth a little too pursed. He stopped when he realized that Jim was no longer in the lobby, seeming lost.

"Mister Spock," Joanna said, waving him over. "They just took Jim in. C'mon, sit with Seril and me."

Spock blinked at her, standing absolutely still for some moments. Then he walked over to the empty chair to Joanna's right and sat down. She looked down at his hands, folded in his lap, and noticed that they shook a little bit. When Joanna looked up at his face, she found him looking right back at her.

"Are you okay?" Joanna asked.

"I am not unwell. How are you? I heard that you also fell into the canyon."

"I'm better now," Joanna said. "Nurse Chapel fixed me up."

Spock nodded shortly and turned his face away. His eyes were locked on the doors that Jim had disappeared through, but his gaze was somewhere far, far away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, I hope you all enjoyed this chapter! The next chapter will be up in five days, but I hope that this is enough to tide you all over until then!


	28. Chapter 28

Spock remained in his chair the entire six hours that Jim was in surgery, managing to settle into a light level of meditation. Joanna had fallen asleep before T'Mira had been dismissed and was not woken when they left. She was leaning against Spock, head pillowed on his upper arm.

When Doctor McCoy eventually exited into the lobby, looking exhausted, Spock's eyes snapped to him. His steps stalled for a moment when he saw that Joanna was sleeping on Spock, but he kept walking. Spock made sure not to jostle Joanna, but shifted to a more upright position.

"Jim's out of the woods," McCoy said quietly. "He should be awake soon, if you'd like to go in."

Spock almost went to stand, but then looked down at Joanna. McCoy seemed to understand his issue and knelt down, then placed a gentle hand on Joanna's shoulder. She took a deep breath as she stirred, eyes fluttering open.

"Hey, darlin'," McCoy said soothingly. "Jim's doing just fine now, but he's not awake. Why don't you go back to wherever you're staying? You can come visit tomorrow, when he'll be able to talk to you."

Joanna sat up and stretched, yawning widely. The few Vulcans in the lobby politely ignored them. When Joanna was done stretching, she rubbed at her eyes.

"He's okay?" she asked, sounding very relieved.

"He's okay," McCoy affirmed.

Joanna nodded and then stood up, McCoy following suit. She sagged into him in a hug, and McCoy held her close.

"Alright," Joanna said into his chest. "I'll come back tomorrow."

"I gotta stay here, but do you want Spock to walk you back to wherever you're stayin', Joey?"

"No." Joanna straightened up and ran her fingers through her knotted ponytail. "Aunt Marie and I are sleepin' close to the hospital."

"Okay, darlin'." Leonard held Joanna by her shoulders, looking her up and down. "Are you alright, Joey? You looked pretty banged up when you got to the clinic. I'm sorry I didn't ask how you were doin' then."

"I'm okay," Joanna said, "and it's alright. I know you were worried 'bout Jim."

Leonard smiled at Joanna and said, "I'm so proud of you, darlin'. Now why don't you head back to wherever you're stayin' with Marie, and I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"

Joanna gave McCoy one last tight hug and a quiet, "Okay. See you tomorrow, daddy," before leaving.

"She is highly endearing," Spock observed.

McCoy stared after her, pride obvious in the glimmer of his eyes and in his body language. When he turned to Spock, he even smiled somewhat.

"She sure is, ain't she?" He glanced over his shoulder at the doors that led to the main hospital. "D'you wanna see Jim? He's asleep, but if it'll help any, you're welcome to sit with him."

"I would be most relived if I were to be able to sit with him," Spock said.

"Alright, then," McCoy said. "Follow me."

The hospital was quiet besides the faint beeping of monitors that floated out from rooms holding patients. Just from the pace of the heart monitor, Spock could tell when they approached the room of the only human in the hospital. It was dark inside until McCoy brightened the lights.

Jim lay still on the biobed, chest rising and falling with deep, even breaths and his skin a healthy pink, the sunburn he had to have acquired taken care of.

McCoy found a chair and set it by the bed. Spock slowly sat down in it, eyes never wavering from Jim's face. His heart pounded in his side, both nerves and a sense of elation. His t'hy'la was injured, yes, but not dead.

"I believe," Spock finally said, addressing Doctor McCoy but not looking at him, "that we have much to discuss."

"Us?" Doctor McCoy asked. "Why?"

"You are the third and final person that I must confess to."

"...I'm what?"

"You are the final person that I must confess to. Sit down, please."

McCoy pulled up another chair and sat down, facing Spock. Cold anticipation flooded Spock, but he ignored it. His gaze remained fixed on Jim's limp hand as he spoke, unable to look directly at McCoy.

"You most likely assume that the cause of such disturbance that it necessitated intervention by the ha'karr was my planet's demise. That is... not the case. I was highly emotionally disturbed due to the loss of my mother.

"My mother was a most extraordinary person. She dared to fall in love with a Vulcan, followed him to Vulcan and built a family despite the criticism from her own people and scorn from almost all of Vulcan.

"Even with all of the scorn from Vulcan society, my mother remained unapologetically human. When I was born, she loved me in an unconditional, very human manner. She did not follow Vulcan parenting principals, loving me openly and often. She doted on me, even as I grew and began to reject her love."

Spock swallowed hard. Jim's nails were red underneath with New Vulcan soil, his hands too limp and without energy. As he spoke, though, the words came easier and he no longer had to focus so intently on Jim.

"I believed that becoming the perfect Vulcan would decrease the amount of prejudice I faced, as did my father. It did not. In the attempt, however, I scorned by human half completely. My mother suffered for it, and still I continued to scorn my humanity, the priceless gift she had given me.

"When I went to Starfleet, my mother sent me video messages once a week and old fashioned 'care packages' once a month. I very rarely responded, but she never ceased. Even when I graduated, the messages and care packages continued to come.

"When I was told that Vulcan had minutes at most before it collapsed, my first thought was of my mother." Spock had to take a moment to compose himself before continuing. "I did not go down to the surface of Vulcan to collect the High Council and preserve Vulcan culture. I went down to the surface to save my mother.

"I failed," Spock said, voice hoarse. "I could not even achieve my primary goal. My mother... she was right there." His throat free tight, hot wetness building behind his eyes. "Her arm was in mine, and I let her go. She was no more than four feet from me when the cliff gave way beneath her."

"Oh, Spock," McCoy said in what was little more than a whisper.

Perhaps he understood. His precious daughter, after all, had only hours ago nearly suffered a very similar fate.

"I never told my mother that I loved her. Over the course of my entire life, I never once expressed my love for her in an adequate manner. She spent her life thinking I hated my humanity, hated the aspect of myself that came from her. She died never once hearing the words 'I love you' from me.

"The guilt... The guilt that my actions caused me to feel is indescribable."

Spock blinked back the tears that threatened to fall. His side ached with shameful grief, hot and stinging.

"I understand, Spock," McCoy finally said. "Your guilt, at least."

Spock finally looked over at McCoy. The other man's arms were crossed as he leaned back in his chair, gaze downcast and heavily shadowed.

"I was aware that your father had died, but I am unsure how. Do you believe you have reason to feel guilty over his death?"

"Believe?" McCoy shook his head. "Spock, I know. I killed him."

"You are bound by Hippocratic Oath to do no harm," Spock said. "Surely you could not have killed him."

"He was suffering," McCoy said quietly. "Degrading. He couldn't move or even use the damn bathroom by himself. He was in constant pain, even with the strongest painkillers we could get him." McCoy had to stop for a moment blinking back tears with a scowl on his face. "He wanted to keep his dignity intact, that goddamn pride of his. So he asked me to let him go, put him down like a sick dog." McCoy shrugged jerkily. "I did, eventually. The cure was discovered shortly after."

"I understand," Spock replied. "If I had held on to my mother for only a few moments longer, she would not have been standing on the part of the cliff that collapsed. If I had not been preoccupied with hailing the ship, she would not have been standing near the edge at all. We would have beamed up, arm in arm, and... and..."

"And you wouldn't be here with amnesia right now," McCoy finished for him, tone soft. "Because you'd have nothing to grieve over so badly that it needed to be fixed like this."

"Perhaps the loss of my planet."

"Of the people who despised you your whole life?" McCoy shook his head. "It was tragic, of course it was, but I wouldn't be distraught to the point of needing that artificial amnesia if everyone who had ever hated me died."

"Your argument does have merit," Spock said.

For a moment they fell quiet, and then Spock looked up and met McCoy's eyes. In his eyes, Spock saw his own grief nearly perfectly mirrored. He suddenly felt that he understood McCoy better than he ever had.

From the bed, there was a small shift. Jim's hand twitched, drawing the attention of both Spock and McCoy. Jim took a deep breath as he emerged from his unconscious state, oddly reminiscent of his emergence from his coma after Khan, and blinked blearily at Spock and McCoy.

"What'd I miss?" he croaked.

"God _dammit_ , Jim," McCoy seethed.

His face had twisted from sympathy to resigned annoyance. Jim seemed entirely unfazed by the fearsome glower that McCoy was displaying.

"Don't blame me for this," Jim said, eyes closing. "If I hadn't, Joanna and T'Mira would've been seriously hurt."

At the mention of Joanna, McCoy softened somewhat.

"You screwed yourself up good, you know that?"

"I gathered that based on my current state," Jim said. "Stars, I feel awful."

"Yeah," McCoy said. "You probably do. You broke damn near every rib in the fall when you tried to cushion a human eleven year old _and_ a Vulcan eleven year old, and you came so close to puncturing a lung that I can't really believe you didn't. You also slammed your head hard enough I was worried you might end up with _actual_ amnesia, not the artificial kind that the ha'karr gave you, and you broke an arm and a leg pretty damn badly."

"...Oh," Jim said. "Well, is Joanna okay? And T'Mira?"

"Both children are well," Spock said. "Joanna suffered a broken wrist, and T'Mira suffered a broken leg and a mild concussion."

"Okay," Jim said. "Okay. That could be worse."

"That could be a hell of a lot worse," McCoy affirmed. "Thank you for saving Joanna, but damn, Jim, that was pretty stupid of you."

"I've done stupider things."

"You have, haven't you?" McCoy sighed.

"Wait," Jim said. "If Jo broke her wrist and T'Mira broke her leg, how did we get help?"

"Jo climbed out of the canyon and ran to the clinic. She was about ready to pass out when she got there, and apparently the break in her wrist had been aggravated to hell and back, but she got help just in the nick of time." McCoy fixed Jim with a harsh glare. "Five minutes later and we probably would've lost you."

Jim went pale. _That,_ Spock thought, _is unusual_. Normally, Jim would merely give McCoy a sheepish apology despite his near brush with death. When he spoke, his words alleviated Spock's confusion.

"Joanna had to-?" He said. He went to scrub a hand over his face but never did, wincing and putting his arm back down before it was even halfway to his face. "Shit, Bones, I'm so sorry."

"You saved her life when you all fell," McCoy said, shaking his head. "Don't apologize for that."

"She's better now, though?" Jim asked.

"She is."

"Joanna and I both waited in the lobby after you were brought in," Spock said. "She was tired, but uninjured."

"Joanna's here?"

"Not anymore," McCoy said. "I sent her back to wherever's she's stayin' with her aunt so she could go to bed." McCoy blinked and then looked at Spock. "Speaking of sleep," he said. "I think it's time for our resident Vulcan to go to bed, too."

Jim turned his vivid gaze on Spock.

"Did you...?"

"I have confided in Doctor McCoy." Spock affirmed.

"That's great!" Jim said. "I'm glad." He smiled tiredly. "Now I can have my first officer back. Sulu misses his plants."

"I am certain that all will be relieved when I return to my previous post," Spock said.

"Go on and rest," McCoy prompted. "Jim will still be here in the morning-"

"Oh, come on Bo-"

_"He will be here in the morning,"_ McCoy repeated, and then continued with, "and maybe your memories will, too."

"Perhaps. I bid you good night, Doctor McCoy, Jim."

"Call me Leonard," McCoy said. He wasn't looking at Spock, fiddling with Jim's equipment, but Spock understood nonetheless.

"Very well. Goodnight, then, Leonard."

"Bye, Spock!" Jim said, waving slightly.

"Goodnight, Spock," Leonard said.

Spock's stroll back to his father's residence, where he'd be staying for the Enterprise's stay, was leisurely. The moon hung low in the sky, and the light was not silvery like the light Earth's moon cast, but white. Beneath Spock's feet, the sand looked almost pink in the moonlight.

"Mister Spock!"

Spock stopped. The whisper shout had come from the direction of the housing units, hastily but securely assembled to house volunteers. The drawl in the voice was unmistakable.

"Joanna?"

"Yeah! Over here!"

Spock followed the whisper shout to a window, which Joanna hung half out of.

"Please place yourself more securely inside the housing," Spock said. Joanna did as he asked, but still had her arms propped up on the sill.

"Is Jim okay?"

"Jim is awake and well. You should be able to visit him tomorrow morning."

"Okay, good."

"You need not feel guilty for Jim's injuries, Joanna."

"But it's my fault," Joanna said, and Spock couldn't see her face well in Spock's shadow but he could tell that she was near tears. "I walked too close to the edge and fell, and if I hadn't fallen then T'Mira and Jim wouldn't've tried to catch me and fallen with me, and Jim wouldn't have almost died and-"

"You cannot blame yourself. Did you know that you would fall?"

"No." Joanna sounded petulant. "But I shouldn't've been so close to the edge, mama always warns me-"

"You did not know," Spock said, cutting her off, "and you did not fall purposefully" Therefore, you cannot blame yourself."

"But-"

"You can visit Jim tomorrow, and he will assure you that he does not blame you. Sleep now, Joanna."

"Okay," Joanna finally said. "Goodnight, Mister Spock."

"Goodnight, Joanna."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I'm so sorry for the late update, school's been kicking my butt, but it's almost over! To keep withtheupdating schedule, the next chapter will now be up in four days. If any of you are interested, I'll be posting a rather angsty Spirk fic on the 22nd, so keep an eye out for that!


	29. Chapter 29

_"Captain!"_

_"Jim, come back!"_

_"Captain Pike, sir, we have to stop the ship."_

_Spock stands when Captain Pike does, turning to stare at the Cadet who he had sworn had been grounded. Another man who he had previously seen Cadet Kirk with and surprisingly, Nyota, are right behind him. The other man is in what Spock assumes is not science but medical blues, flushed from chasing Cadet Kirk._

_"Kirk, how the hell did you get on board the Enterprise?"_

_"Captain, this man's under the influence of a severe reaction to a vaccine-"_

_"Bones, Bones!"_

_"He's completely delusional-"_

_It is clear that the man, Bones, is trying to protect Cadet Kirk from any more repercussions for his behavior, but Cadet Kirk simply speaks over him._

_"Vulcan is not experiencing a natural disaster, it's being attacked by Romulans."_

_"Romulans? Cadet Kirk, I think you've had enough attention for one day. McCoy, take him back to medical, we'll have words later."_

_McCoy nods, looking relived, and says, "Aye, Captain." He goes to grab for Cadet Kirk, who moved towards Captain Pike when he turns away, but fails._

_Spock's attention is drawn away from McCoy and back to Cadet Kirk, but he notices the fear and exasperation that cross McCoy's face in equal measure before he turns his attention fully to Cadet Kirk and Captain Pike._

_"You don't leave your prized stallion in the stable," says a very irritated voice. Spock turns to find McCoy looking furious, arms crossed and his face fixed in a glare._

_Spock does not reply, merely turns away, but his vision blurs like someone has slid their hands through a still wet painting. When the scene in front of Spock clears again, he is standing, oddly enough, in sickbay. While still very damaged, the original sickbay has been made serviceable again for patients not requiring much treatment._

_Treatment, of course, in the physical sense. The original, damaged sickbay has been converted to what is essentially a ward for those suffering from PTSD, including all of the Vulcans rescued by the Enterprise, a pitiful number._

_They are halfway back to Earth, and while most of the efforts of the crew have been to repair engineering, the medical crew has been working tirelessly to take care of their patients and fix as much of their damaged equipment as possible._

_"T'Peka," McCoy says, tone soothing and quiet._

_He stands near Spock, by the bed of one of the more shell-shocked Vulcans that they managed to rescue. Perhaps in her mid-40's, T'Peka is still young by Vulcan standards. She has hardly slept or eaten since her rescue from Vulcan, however, and her loss would be significant considering how few Vulcans remain._

_"Can you hear me, T'Peka? Nod if you can hear me."_

_Spock watches as, very slowly, T'Peka nods. McCoy's face lights up. Spock notices that McCoy has three fingers resting on T'Peka's wrist, and raises his eyebrows, but says nothing._

_"Good," McCoy encourages. "Very good. Can you talk?"_

_T'Peka opens her mouth a bit, but shuts it and shakes her head. McCoy nods in an understanding way._

_"Okay." He looks down at his fingers. "I know you can receive my thoughts when I have my fingers on your arm, but can you send thoughts to me?"_

_T'Peka nods again, and McCoy smiles._

_"Can you send me thoughts instead of talking?"_

_Another nod._

_"Okay. Can you tell me why you won't eat?"_

_Spock watches as McCoy's face almost crumbles before he pulls himself under control. Most human doctors that Spock has ever met have high empathy, and he doesn't think that McCoy is any different._

_"Your death by self-starvation won't bring them back," McCoy says, so quietly that Spock can barely hear him. "The best thing that you can do to honor them is to live. Who's going to remember them if you die, too?"_

_T'Peka moves her head the slightest bit to look McCoy in the eyes. The raw grief in them nearly steals Spock's breath, and it is with a sense of great discomfort that he realizes that he is intruding on an intensely private moment._

_Spock turns to leave, but finds himself in his quarters. Be is faced by McCoy standing in the doorway, glaring at him. McCoy's arms are crossed over his chest in what is becoming a typical fashion, his eyebrows lowered._

_"Yes, Doctor?" Spock asks._

_"I don't understand it," McCoy says, "but Jim wanted you as his first officer. Now, I know he ain't got much experience, but he's the boss, and you've gotta respect that, okay? You worked well under extreme circumstances, but I don't want you runnin' around tryin' to undermine decisions he makes because you think you know better."_

_It is curious that McCoy is considering it his job to ensure the protection of Captain Kirk. The captain has shown that he is more than capable of handling himself as well as debating with Spock, yet McCoy acts as if the captain cannot stand up for himself._

_"I do not plan to challenge Captain Kirk unless his decision endangers the crew."_

_McCoy narrows his eyes, and then finally says, "Alright, then."_

_"May I please exit my quarters now, Doctor?"_

_McCoy rolls his eyes and steps aside. When Spock exits his room, he is baffled to find that he is not in the hallway but is instead in sickbay once more. McCoy stands by Captain Kirk's biobed, which is partially obscured by the privacy curtain, but not from where Spock stands, unnoticed by both men. This part of sickbay is empty except for the three of them._

_"Hey, Jimmy," McCoy says soothingly._

_"Bones," Jim says, sounding pained._

_It is a miracle that he is still alive, having been kidnapped and tortured by a highly suspicious alien species. Some sort of poison that had been on their weapons was designed to intensify pain, and also happened to be resistant to every type of pain relief onboard the Enterprise._

_"What can I do to help?"_

_"Find pain medicine that works," Jim says. He tries to laugh, but it becomes a cry of pain muffled through pinched lips._

_"There's nothin' on board, Jimmy," McCoy says, sounding like he hurts, too. "I'm so sorry."_

_"'S okay," Jim says, voice still sounding incredibly pained. "How about something that'll put me to sleep, then?"_

_"Alright," McCot says. He turns away and returns to Spock's field of vision a moment later, holding a hypospray. "Here you go, kid."_

_Jim doesn't flinch or make a sound when McCoy presses the device against his neck. Once the hypospray is administered, McCoy sets it aside and strokes Jim's hair._

_"Th'ks B'nes," Jim slurs, eyes already slipping shut._

_"Of course, Jimmy," McCoy murmurs._

_Spock feels a searing pain in his side and looks down to see a spreading green stain. He drops to his knees, letting out a small sound of pain, and places shaking hands over the wound. His head begins to spin from blood loss, and he has to put one hand on the ground to steady himself._

_Sickbay melts away to reveal a new setting, an alien forest. Indigo bark surrounds Spock, and the ground is covered in pale orange leaves._

_"Spock!"_

_There is a thud as McCoy drops to his knees beside Spock, medkit in hand. The doctor has a cut on his upper arm, but he does not seem to know or care._

_"Dammit, man," McCoy mutters, reaching out and lowering Spock gently to the ground._

_Spock gasps for breath and closes his eyes against the almost white sky. While Spock focuses on not passing out, he can feel McCoy's hands lifting Spock's shirts to inspect the wound. McCoy's hands have always felt extremely cold to Spock, and he uses that cold, focuses on the temperature of McCoy's hands and not the pain of his wound._

_"Stars," McCoy whispers._

_"I do not believe that you are expressing a positive sentiment," Spock says, strained._

_"I'm not," McCoy mutters, then says, "Alright, this is gonna sting."_

_There is pressure on his wound but no pain, and then the pressure fades as well, and Spock is left staring up at white sky. The sky then spins and spins and eventually stills to become a hospital room on Earth. It's a rather large private suite, with only one biobed that contains none other than Captain Kirk._

_McCoy stands by Jim's bed, and Spock doesn't believe he's ever seen the man in a more haggard state. His hair is greasy and unwashed, his jaw covered in heavy stubble. The bags under his eyes are impressive, and Spock can almost feel his exhaustion and stress._

_"Doctor," Spock says. "I think that you should rest."_

_"Don't tell me what to do," McCoy snaps. He doesn't cut a figure that's anywhere near imposing, and Spock resists the urge to raise his eyebrows._

_"When is the last time that you have eaten, Doctor?"_

_"At lunch today."_

_"You ate a quarter of an apple, if that. When is the last time you have eaten a significant portion of a meal?"_

_"Five days ago," McCoy reluctantly admitted. "But I'm_ fine."

_"You have not eaten a full meal, nor, it seems, gotten adequate sleep since Doctor M'Benga forced you to do so. I do not believe that you qualify as 'fine.'"_

_"Go to hell."_

_"Leonard." The use of his first name catches McCoy's attention, and he gives Spock a wary but attentive look. "What would Jim say if he were to awake and find you in such a state?"_

_"He wouldn't care."_

_Spock simply looks at McCoy until he sighs and mutters, "He'd feel guilty." McCoy glares at Spock again before he continues to speak. "I'll go wash up, but I'll be back."_

_"You will wash up, eat a full meal, and sleep for at least eight hours," Spock corrects him._

_McCoy crosses his arms over his chest._

_"I'm not leaving Jim alone for that long."_

_"He will not be alone," Spock says. "I will remain with him until you return, and Doctor M'Benga will see to Jim's care."_

_McCoy looks at him for a long time before sighing and saying, "Okay, Spock. Okay."_

_The image of McCoy standing by Jim's bed begins to drip as if made of a frozen thing that has been exposed to excessive heat. When the first image has melted completely, Spock finds himself in a bar. The room is too loud and too cold, but when Spock tries to stand his legs almost buckle and the room spins. Spock grips the bar top tightly, hoping to regain his balance._

_"Did we get Spock drunk?" a familiar voice asks. "When did that happen? I've been here all night."_

_"Dunno, Bones," says another familiar voice, and hiccups._

_"Goddammit," the first familiar voice mutters. "Gotta do everythin' myself. This is what I get for volunteering to be the chaperone."_

_A broad hands comes to rest lightly on Spock's shoulder, and Spock blinks blearily at Doctor McCoy, who is on the other end of the arm connected to the hand. Spock blinks a couple times, and McCoy sighs._

_"C'mon," McCoy says, moving closer and wrapping his arm around Spock's back. "Let's get you back to your room."_

_Normally Spock would object to the touching, but focusing on the thoughts and emotions of one person helps to drown out the information pouring off of everyone else. He leans into McCoy, almost missing the slight 'harrumph' as McCoy takes on his weight._

_The journey back to Spock's room takes a bizarre amount of time, Spock tripping over both his and McCoy's feet the whole time, and when they finally get there Spock sort of expects McCoy to just leave him. Instead, McCoy pulls back the covers of Spock's bed, takes off Spock's boots, and then helps Spock get into bed. When all that's completed and the sheets are pulled up, McCoy disappears, and Spock wonders if he's left._

_He has not. McCoy returns with a glass of water that he sets on Spock's nightstand and a hypospray that might contain a hangover cure. Spock slurs out wha tis supposed to be a 'thank you,' and McCoy just pats him gently on the shoulder and says, "Thank me if the hangover meds work."_

_The drunk lethargy weighing down Spock's body finally wins, and his eyes slide shut. The darkness doesn't last, however, and Spock's vision lightens to display a long and tall room not unlike a throne room from Terran history, light spilling in from grand windows to wash across the pale floor._

_"Grand Priest," McCoy says, none of his usual attitude coloring his voice. He almost sounds like he's pleading. "It was me who committed the infraction. I should be the one punished."_

_"Yet it does not appear that you were informed of our culture's respect for the natural course of life. That is the fault of your leader," says a tall, spiny, orange alien in the front of the room. It looks like some sort of deformed insect, limbs too thin but unnaturally strong, torso oddly short._

_Just to the right of the alien stands Jim, two similar aliens holding him captive. The rest of the away team, Spock included, stand frozen, surrounded by guards. McCoy has stepped forward, and is trying his best to negotiate with the apparent leader of the aliens._

_"I am in charge of creating mission briefs," Spock says, pushing his way to the front of the group. "Therefore, it should be me who is punished."_

_The leader seems to have turned their interest on to Spock, but McCoy steps in between Spock and the alien leader._

"No," _McCoy says. "Spock writes the mission briefs, its true, but I read and disregarded what he wrote about your respect-" He spits the word like its poison. "-for survival of the fittest."_

_The alien leader and McCoy engage in a stare-down for several long, tense seconds before the leader turns to the guards holding Jim captive and says, "Release him. Take the one who broke our rules."_

_"No!" Jim protests, but is shoved rudely forward and staggers back to the group. Spock catches him to prevent him from falling, and looks up to see Doctor McCoy being led away by the two guards._

_"Please," Nyota murmurs from beside Spock, and he knows that she's begging for his return to them._

_"We... We have to do something," Jim says._

_"There is nothing that we can do except pray that he returns to us alive."_

_Jim looks like he might be sick._

_When, three hours later, McCoy is returned to the away team, Spock believes that Jim may be in real danger of throwing up. McCoy is unconscious, dragged into the room with his head bowed and legs dragging on the floor. Some scarlet smears stain the ground behind him, and Spock almost flinches when they drop him without care in front of the away team. His head hits the stone with a sharp crack._

_Spock squeezes Jim's arm in a way that he hopes screams, 'don't you dare do anything rash,' before he lets go and kneels down to inspect McCoy's condition. Hopefully Nyota will take over Spock's previous job of handling the captain._

_It is not good, that much is clear at first glance. McCoy's face is purple with bruising, dried blood from a bloody and broken nose coating the bottom of his face. Blood is staining McCoy's shirt and pants, seeping out of wounds that Spock cannot see. His breathing is too shallow, the skin of his face that Spock can see under the cuts and bruising a sickly pallor._

_With a small twitch, McCoy begins to come back to consciousness. Spock pushes aside his disappointment that McCoy did not stay unconscious. It would certainly spare McCoy pain._

_"McCoy," Spock murmurs. McCoy does not respond, so Spock tries again, a little louder. "Leonard."_

_With a small whine of pain, McCoy's eyes flicker open as far as they are able to. His throat works and he opens his mouth, but no words come out._

_"We are going to get you back to the ship, where M'Benga will heal you," Spock says quietly, "but I must carry you off of the sacred grounds and to a place where we can beam up."_

_"Go f'r it." McCoy wheezes._

_Spock places one arm under McCoy's knees and another under his back, then lifts. McCoy lets out a choked cry of pain, one hand shooting up to fist in Spock's shirt. His head falls on to Spock's shoulder, and Spock does his best not to let the hitching breaths that border on sobs unnerve him._

_"If you would be so kind as to show us to a place where we can be beamed up," Jim says frigidly, "then we would take our leave."_

_"Guards," the leader says. "Show our...guests... to a point where they can return."_

_On the walk back down a massive hill, following intricate trials, Spock falls back some and attempts to speak to McCoy privately. The breaths that hitch with nearly every step Spock takes let him know that McCoy is still conscious._

_"Why did you not allow me to undergo the punishment?" Spock asks. "I am far sturdier than you."_

_"You didn't break the rules," McCoy grunts. "You shouldn't've been punished, even if you are sturdier."_

_"Illogical."_

_"Totally logical," McCoy shoots back, and gasps when Spock takes an especially jarring step._

_"We are almost there," Spock says to try and reassure him._

_McCoy presses his head into Spock's shoulder and doesn't verbally respond. His fingers wind up pressed against the skin of Spock's neck, and Spock can feel his pain and exhaustion._

Stars, I hurt so bad, _McCoy is thinking._ Please, please, how much longer? I want Chris, I want M'Benga, I don't want to be conscious. I just want to feel better.

_"I can see the beam-up point now," Spock murmurs. "Just a few more moments."_

_Spock trips and falls, except he doesn't land and McCoy's weight abruptly disappears, and Spock finds himself standing next to McCoy, looking out at a partially-built starship. The sounds of a party are coming from behind Spock, but he is content to stand apart and so, it seems, is McCoy._

_"I still can't believe I managed to fly that bee thing," McCoy muses._

_"I am not sure that your actions could be considered flying."_

_McCoy gives Spock a withering look and says, "I did a good job at not hitting too many buildings when we were chasing Krall, and then I managed to get us into a position where you could catch Jim."_

_"I suppose," Spock says. "However, we did not land so much as crash."_

_"I'd like to have seen you do a better job," McCoy says sourly. After a few moments he glances back at Spock. "What d'you plan on doing while we're stationed here?"_

_"I will be working with Dr. Killritz while we are at Yorktown. She is attempting to prove that Betazoid empathy and Vulcan telepathy can be achieved in the same person by accessing different parts of the brain."_

_"Sounds interesting," McCoy says. "I'll be working under the station's head doctor in the main hospital here."_

_"A most effective use of your talents."_

_"...Thanks."_

_The two of them return to gazing out the window, when suddenly a hand settles on his arm. Spock turns around and finds himself in sickbay, Leonard standing behind him and looking rather emotionally constipated._

_"Take care, Spock."_

* * *

Spock woke abruptly, blinking heavily at the ceiling above him. Moonlight still shone through the thin curtains, beams of it hanging in the still air. It reminded him of other memories in other places, memories that danced just beyond his grasp, taunting. Spock didn't fight when sleep tugged at him once more with lethargic fingers, letting his eyes slide shut and his brain do what it pleased.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! There's only about two chapters left, but I won't abandon you all afterwards, although I won't be able to update as often. I have a pretty busy summer planned! I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and the next one will be up in five days!


	30. Chapter 30

_It is summer on Vulcan, and his mother has the curtains drawn to shield herself from the sunlight, harsh even through windows. Spock sits in her study, where she spends most of her time. The curtains are not fully closed, and a beam of sunlight spills through, painting a golden stripe across the floor. Dust mites swirl mesmerizingly in the light._

_Spock crawls across the floor, yet unable to walk, and lays down in the sunlight, giggling. The dust dips and dances and hovers, and Spock reaches up with chubby infant fingers to grab at it, as if he could possibly catch it._

_"What are you doing?" his mother asks in that tone that people use when speaking to very young children or pets. "Are you playing with the dust?"_

_Spock burbles and giggles._

_His mother comes around the desk and picks him up from the floor, tucking him against her chest. Spock relaxes into the welcome embrace, tiny hands twisted in a scarf and the shoulder of her robe. A couple strands of dark hair that have fallen loose drape across Spock's hands, and he grabs those instead. His mother does not reprimand him, but laughs instead._

_When she draws the curtains aside to let the hot sun wash over Spock and illuminate the room and all the dust inside, Spock lets out a squeal of delight. His mother coos nonsense into his ear, and Spock can't see because it's so bright._

_The brightness fades and reveals the garden attached to their house, where his mother lovingly cultivates roses and other Terran plants alongside Vulcan ones. She kneels on the ground, trimming a rose bush, her back turned._

_Spock, at the age of four, walks over and taps her on the shoulder with a hand that's still slightly pudgy due to his human ancestry. She straightens up and turns to him, then smiles brightly. Spock loves when she smiles, loves the way her eyes seem to shine._

_"Hello, my little star," she says. "How are you?"_

_"I am well. Can I join you?"_

_Spock's Standard isn't the best, having been taught Standard after he began to learn Vulcan, but it is enough to communicate with his mother in a way that makes her happy. Why Spock speaking Standard makes her happy, Spock doesn't know, but he thinks that maybe he'll understand in time._

_"Absolutely," his mother says. "Would you like to help me tend to the roses?"_

_Spock nods. His mother smiles again and pulls him into a hug. Spock loves it when his mother hugs him, loves the security he feels and the smell of her perfume. Spock squeezed back and closes his eyes against the garden to bask in the hug._

_The arms around him change and shift. It is a different day, and his mother is wearing a different robe. Her hands run soothingly through his hair, and he stifles sniffles into her shoulder. It is his first day in the public education system of Vulcan, and he has been tormented all day. Never in his life has he known such cruelty, and he can't comprehend why they treated him so. Thankfully, his father is not home when Spock returns, so he can show his distress and his mother can comfort him in more emotional ways._

_"You are infinitely precious to me," his mother murmurs into his hair. "My little star, I love you more than anything, and they can't take that from you no matter what they say."_

_I love you too, Spock wants to say, but proper Vulcans don't admit to emotion and so Spock says nothing. His mother clutches him closer and begins to sing quietly, the imperfections in her voice serving to soothe Spock._

_"You are my sunshine, my only sunshine..."_

_The darkness of the inside of his eyelids fades to show his childhood room. The sun is setting over the horizon, visible from the window above his bed. His mother sits on the end of his bed where he is tucked in, already in her pajamas with her hair loose._

_"Would you like me to read you something?"_

_"Yes, please," Spock says. His day has been far less than ideal, and he wants the comfort that his mother has always been able to provide by simply reading him a story._

_His mother selects the book she's been reading to him at night and goes to open it. Suddenly, a memory from earlier that previous day flashes through Spock's mind. Stonn sneers that he'll never be fully Vulcan, that he's still childish and far too human, and the thought of doing something as inherently like a human child as being read to before bed sickens him. Spock shifts in his bed._

_"Actually," Spock says, "I would rather not be read to."_

_This alarms his mother somewhat, who sets the book aside and places a gentle hand on his leg, cool through the sheets. Spock refuses to meet her eyes directly, instead focusing on the point between her eyebrows._

_"Spock," she says. "Is something wrong?"_

_"No," Spock says. "I simply do not want to be read to." He knows that his mother will continue to ask after his well-being if he leaves it at that, so he finishes by saying, "It is childish."_

_His mother opens her mouth slightly, and Spock knows that the words that she wants to say are, 'You are a child,' but she refrains. Instead she shuts her mouth, looks at him with sorrowful eyes beneath knit brows, and stands._

_"Okay, Spock," she says. "If that's really what you want. Would you like a goodnight kiss?"_

More than anything.

_"No."_

_His mother nods and leaves with nothing more than a, 'goodnight,' and Spock curls up alone in the darkness. There is an aching feeling in his side, and Spock tries to stop it by pressing his hands over it. When that doesn't work, he wraps his arms around himself and falls asleep curled up as small as he can make himself. He's six years old._

_The blankets shift and twist over him, eventually disappearing like they've been transported. When Spock opens his eyes, his room is no longer what surrounds him. He's not even laying down, but is standing on the edge of a learning dome._

_"He's a traitor, you know. Your father. For marrying her, that human whore."_

_Hot green rage rises up, choking Spock. There is a sound, like someone is screaming, and then Spock can feel Stonn's chest under his hands as he shoved and hits and fights the boy who seems to make it his mission to make Spock miserable._

_There is a sudden solemn presence by his side- his father, of all people to witness his shame- and cold, unforgiving stone behind him. Spock sits at the end of a long hallway, waiting to be called into the office of the Vulcan who oversees Spock's learning center. His split lip stings, but he doesn't dare touch it. The injury is his penance for not being Vulcan enough, for not controlling his emotions well enough._

_"S'chn T'Gai Spock," says a stern voice. Spock looks up and into the eyes of the education center overseer, an impeccably Vulcan woman. "Enter my office."_

_When Sarek stands as well to enter behind him, the overseer demands that he stay in the hallway. His father complies, and Spock feels almost nauseous when the door to the overseer's office shuts behind him._

_"Sit."_

_Her voice is emotionless, as a Vulcan's should be, but she seems upset with him. Spock sits in the uncomfortable chair on the other side of her desk, afraid to even shift lest he draw more attention than necessary._

_"You attacked another student," she says. The need to defend himself swells up in Spock, unstoppable._

_"He has been eroding my emotional control over a course of weeks," Spock says. The words sound petulant even to his own ears._

_"I did not ask for an excuse, nor did I ask for you to speak."_

_Spock bites the inside of his lips to stem any more inappropriate responses. He longs to explain himself and make her understand like a physical need, but he cannot say any more without making her opinion of him worse._

_"You attacked another student. Whether or not he had been actively attempting to negatively impact your emotional control is irrelevant. You are, supposedly, Vulcan. Your actions would be expected from a Terran child."_

_Spock has to work to fight back furious tears at the unfairness of it all. He isn't fully Vulcan, and adults seem to either not know or not care. They hold him to the standards of full Vulcans- and high standards for full Vulcans, at that- and expect him to perform beyond their expectations._

_"Do you have an explanation?"_

He insulted my mother, _is the first thing that Spock thinks. He almost says as much, but catches himself just in time._

_"I was repeatedly tormented. Try as I might, I am unable to behave as a full Vulcan might have in the same situation. I find it unfair and illogical that you seem to hold me to the standards of a fully grown Vulcan with no other ancestry when I am not."_

_"I do not require nor did I ask for impudence."_

_"I am simply stating facts. I mean no disrespect."_

_"Yet you are disrespectful."_

_"I do not mean to be," Spock repeats._

_"For attacking another student, you will be suspended for one week."_

_"And what of the punishment of the other student?"_

_"It is not any issue of mine that you took offense to statements that he made. The issue lies with you and whoever taught you your lacking emotional control."_

_Spock clenches his hands into fists where the overseer cannot see them. This infantile, Terran method of control is the only thing keeping him from another unacceptably human outburst._

_"I understand," Spock says, hoping that his fury does not deep into his voice._

_"Good. Now take your leave."_

_Spock stands to leave but the floor dips and spins beneath him. When it rights itself, he is standing across from T'Pring. Her dark eyes betray no emotion, her hair silky in its elaborate updo. His grandmother's hands are settled on their faces, the wrinkled pads of her fingers resting on psi points._

_When they all enter the meld, T'Pau's presence is hardly noticeable except in the tone of the bridge between Spock and T'Pring's minds. Spock can see T'Pring's mind, feel it, and it is beautiful._

_Her mind is the desert at night, cold and red and unforgiving. It seems to hold something dangerous and hidden, something alluring. The order of it is impeccable, the sprawling expanse of it all the same, yet different._

_Spock tries to convey his admiration to T'Pring, a little clumsy in his efforts._

_The response he gets is absolutely frigid. Her emotions wash over him, unforgiving, and they bring nothing good. She despises his mother, despises that he is not pure blooded, despises his lack of control and his too human eyes. She finds his mind disorderly and appallingly un-Vulcan, finds his emotions distasteful._

_When the bond is settled, Spock feels it, feels T'Pring's presence grow heavier in his mind, feels his mental maze expand to add an elaborate gate through which T'Pring's mind should be accessible. It is open, and through it streams dislike and cold, cold wind._

_When T'Pau withdraws from their minds, declaring, "It is done," Spock wants to cry._

_He does not want this. He does not want T'Pring or her hatred anywhere near him, but she is now in his mind of all places._

_As T'Pring and Spock turn to go back to their families, Spock thinks that he sees what may be either pity or sorrow in his grandmother's eyes._

_The sun suddenly becomes oppressively hot, and Spock closes his eyes as he sways. When the heat disappears and Spock opens his eyes again, he stands in his mother's garden at the age of fourteen._

_"Mother?"_

_Amanda straightens up from her crouch and turns to smile at Spock. Spock's mood lifts slightly at the brightness that his mother's smile always carries, even after a most disastrous day._

_"Yes, dear?"_

_"Is there any way that I could assist with your gardening this evening?"_

_His mother hears what Spock truly means, cutting through the song and dance of proper Vulcan speech to find the human statement and sentiments lying within._

I want to spend time with you. Please, let me.

_His mother's face grows impossibly brighter, and she walks over to him and takes his face in her hands, stained with soil. Spock does not mind, nearly closes his eyes and basks in the feeling of his mother's soft hands._

_"Of course you can help," she says. "Any time you'd like."_

Please do. I've missed you, too.

_Spock joins his mother, crouching by the garden and tending carefully to the Terran roses and cacti that exist alongside Vulcan desert flowers._

_"Would you like to talk about school?"_

_"No."_

_No, he does not want to talk about Stonn's words and the way that T'Pring looks at him, talks to and about him. He does not want to talk about the way his teachers look at and talk about him scornfully behind his manner, calling him deficient and a distraction. He does not want to talk about how despite the fact that he was the first to finish his lessons by a full half an hour he was not given praise, but Sarvik, second to finish, was._

_"Okay," his mother says, pulling a weed that has sprouted near her favorite rose bush. "So we won't._

_When Spock looks up at her, she's giving him a sad, understanding look, but beneath it all lies her constant and unwavering love. Spock almost- but only almost- smiles._

_There is a sharp prick of pain in his hands, and when he turns to look for the flower that must be the culprit, his vision keeps moving after his head has stopped. When it clears after some vigorous blinking, his father's straight-faced glower is the first thing that Spock sees._

_"Your actions were nothing more than pettiness," Sarek says. "It is an honor to be accepted into the VSA, and you have refused that honor in an unacceptably human display."_

_Spock is not sure if he is thankful that his mother is not in the room. On one hand, she would tear into Sarek for using human as an insult, but on the other hand, it would pain her greatly to be present for such a fight._

_"You speak like the council," Spock says. "I suffer from a 'human disadvantage', I am 'unacceptably human'. If you desired a fully Vulcan child, you should not have married mother. Expecting me, half human, to act fully Vulcan is the height of illogic."_

_"Your actions were illogical," Sarek replies._

_"As are yours, and you have no 'human failings' upon which to place blame."_

_"I did not say that your humanity is a failing."_

_"Not in so many words, no."_

_"Spock," Sarek says, voice more stern than Spock has ever heard it. "Your position in the VSA is able to be reclaimed if you apologize. Should you choose to squander such an opportunity and leave for Starfleet, you will no longer be welcome in this home."_

_"How do you believe mother will feel if she returns home to find that two of her three children have been disowned by you without her knowledge or consent?"_

_Spock can see that his father is growing angry, and does not care. He himself burns with anger._

_"Spock," his father says warningly._

_"It is curious," Spock says quietly, knowing that he has made his decision and cannot be forced or convinced to change his mind. "Vulcans claim to practice IDIC, and yet humans, who make no such claim, practice the concept far better than Vulcans ever have."_

_Sarek does not speak, his gaze so heavy with disapproval that it is nearly a physical weight._

_"I will be gone by the evening meal," Spock says. "I will leave it to you to explain to mother why I am not here when she returns."_

_"You have always been ungrateful," Sarek says._

_"Spock?"_

_Spock turns when he hears his mother's voice behind him, and finds himself sitting in a desk chair. On the table in front of him sits a computer console, where his mother's sad face looks out at him._

_It has been seven months since Spock departed from Vulcan, and this is the first time that Spock has spoken to his mother since then. He thinks that perhaps he has made a mistake, his mother's eyes full of tears she tries not to let fall. Sunlight streams in from the windows next to his mother's desk, casting half of her in brilliant gold._

_"Mother," Spock says._

_"How-" She takes a moment to gather herself before continuing. "How are you? How is Starfleet?"_

_"I am-"_ Lonely. _"-well. Starfleet presents intellectual challenges-"_ My classmates do not socialize with me because I am too Vulcan. _"-but it is not more than I can handle."_

_"I'm so glad," his mother says. "At least- If you can't come home, at least you're doing well there. How is Earth?"_

_"It is cold, and San Francisco especially is rather damp, but I am acclimating."_

_His mother laughs quietly._

_"You always did hate the damp."_

_"Indeed."_

_"Have you been getting the packages I've sent you?"_

_Yes, he has been reviving her care packages. The most recent one sits yet unopened next to his computer console._

_"I have. They are most considerate."_

_"I'm glad you like them."_

_His mother's outfit flickers and changes to a Starfleet uniform, her hair shortening and growing darker, face shifting until it is another woman entirely who Spock is looking at. The screen fades, as does Spock's dorm, and he finds himself standing on a starship._

_"I am Number One," the woman says. "The first officer of this ship. Captain Pike is currently unavailable, but he wishes to speak to you at the soonest available opportunity."_

_"When may that be?"_

_"I am uncertain. Remain accessible until he can speak with you."_

_Number One's pattern of speech is much like that of a Vulcan, but she appears to be human. Her face, too, seems to be rather devoid of emotion. Spock likes her immediately._

_"An agreeable solution."_

_When Spock turns around, he faces another computer console with his mother's face on it. Instead of a student dorm, Spock sits in a professor's apartment._

_"Have there been any interesting developments lately?" His mother's tone is teasing, her smile soft and bright. Over the course of their conversations, of which there have been very, very few, his mother's mood always seems to lift. "Any hardheaded students, any gifted ones?"_

_"One Cadet managed to cheat on the Kobayashi Maru," Spock says. "He is going to be brought up on charges of academic fraud next week."_

_"Oh?"_

_"Captain Pike has asked me to consider dropping the charges, claiming that the Cadet in question had nothing but good intentions. It was my argument that he can defend his good intentions when he is brought up on charges, and that not doing so would only set a precedence of allowing cadets leeway."_

_"A logical argument."_

_"Of course."_

_The screen abruptly goes black, and then expands to encompass Spock's entire vision. Vulcan fades into view, stars arising to dot the endless expanse beyond his planet. Something, however, is wrong. Spock isn't sure what, yet, but something is very, very wrong._

_Helpless to do anything but watch, Spock sees cracks appear on the planet's surface, and then an enormous sinkhole, and his planet is crumbling, collapsing in on itself, being destroyed along with billions of lives. He feels T'Pring's bond with him fray and break, the desert beyond the rusted iron gates that separate their minds dissolving into nothing. His mother's bond is already snapped, the ragged edges bleeding unceasing pain into his mind._

_The pain fades as suddenly as it came, and Spock turns and sees newly-made-Captain Kirk sitting in the center chair. The young man grins, eyes nearly glowing._

_"I'm glad you're here, Spock," Captain Kirk says. "It just wouldn't be the same without you."_

_"No," Doctor McCoy mutters from where he is- for no apparent reason- standing behind the Captain's chair. "It would be better."_

_"Be nice, Bones," the Captain chides._

_Spock's station chirps, and when he turns towards it the ship shimmers and disappears, replaced instead by the inside of a volcano. Lava slams against the side of the rock that Spock kneels on, spraying upwards like ocean water. As little as Spock likes the ocean, he wishes desperately that it was water splashing up against Spock's shrinking safe haven and not lava._

_A large splash of lava creates a curtain of scorching, liquid fire, and for a moment the lava seems to freeze there. Like an ancient greenscreen, a new image begins to appear on it. Spock's suit fades away, and the heat of the volcano is no longer present, nor is the volcano._

_Spock crouches instead on the floor, hidden behind a partition from phaser fire as John Harrison fires on the room where, moments ago, there was a debriefing about the same man. Admiral Pike lays on his back, a bloody wound in the center of his chest. He heaves for breath, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. His eyes are glazed with pain and tears, fixed on the ceiling._

_Spock hears a scream of grief that he knows without looking comes from Captain- no, Pike is still alive and therefore it is First Officer and Commander, not Captain- Kirk._

_Under Spock's hands, Pike dissolves. In his place, there lies a PADD that Spock picks up. Upon touching the PADD, Spock finds himself standing in a different place, looking out into space. The PADD is a notice of death not for Christopher, but for his older self._

_"What would I do without you?" Jim asks breathlessly from somewhere behind him._

_When Spock turns to reply, he does not find Jim, but the ha'karr._

_"Hello," Spock says._

_"Hello," the ha'karr replies. "You have suffered much, but it is time now to heal."_

_"I would find that most agreeable."_

_"Then please," the ha'karr gestures for him to follow and begins to walk backwards, towards a glowing white doorway that Spock swears was not there a moment before. "Follow me."_

_Spock takes one last look at the stars behind him before he turns and does as requested._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're almost done guys, but not quite yet! I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, and the final chapter will be up in five days!


	31. Chapter 31

When Jim woke in the morning, Spock was already by his bedside. Within moments of Jim blinking blearily, Joanna, too, appeared. He gave them both a smile and reached up to rub at his eyes, his previously broken arm giving him no pain.

"G'morning."

"Good morning, Jim," Spock said.

"Morning, Jim," Joanna said.

The cheer he had seen yesterday sounded somewhat absent, and Jim took a good look at her. The slight bags under her eyes and the way her hair was ruffled led Jim to believe that she hadn't slept well. She tried to smile, but it was unconvincing.

"Bunny," he said, "you don't look too good. Are you okay?"

Her face crumpled suddenly, and she began to cry, wiping at her eyes and sniffling. Jim looked on in alarm and, unable to jump from the bed, begged Spock for help with his eyes. Thankfully able to understand Jim's silent plea, Spock stood and approached Joanna, kneeling and brushing hair off of her face.

"Joanna," Spock said gently, "would you like to tell Jim why you are upset? It is distressing to him that he does not know the source of your tears."

"You coulda died," Joanna said, voice cracking. "You coulda died tryin' to save me and it woulda been my f-fault for walkin' so close to the edge when you told me not to, an' you-"

"Bunny, no," Jim said. His heart was heavy, and the thought that Joanna had been beating herself up over his injuries was sickening. "No, it's not your fault. You didn't fall, the cliff crumbled beneath you."

Joanna shook her head and continued to cry. Jim and Spock shared a look of mutual uncertainty.

"Joanna, come here," Jim coaxed. "Come on."

Joanna shuffled up to the side of Jim's bed, and when he pulled her onto his biobed and into a hug, she began to cry harder. Jim stroked up and down her back, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

"It's not your fault, bunny, okay? It's not."

Joanna continued to sob into Jim's shoulder, and Jim, unable to calm her with words, just held her. When she finally calmed down and pulled back, Jim let her go with a sympathetic look.

"I just wanted to tell you I'm sorry," Joanna said, and rubbed at her eyes. "So. I'm sorry."

She stood to leave, and Jim said, "It's okay, Joanna. I don't blame you."

Joanna nodded, but Jim could tell that his words didn't help much. When the door shut behind her, Jim gave Spock a despairing look.

"She's not gonna keep beating herself up about this, right?"

"I do not know."

Jim sighed and leaned back into the mountain of pillows he was propped up against. He gave Spock a small smile.

"Well, please tell me your morning is going good, at least?"

"It has been going decently."

"Good, that's good. Hey, shouldn't you be working with the VSA or whatever?"

"You take precedence."

Jim smiled and ignored the butterflies in his stomach, telling himself, _'he doesn't mean it like that.'_

"Do I?"

"You do."

A sudden thought occurred to Jim, and he jerked his head to look at Spock, ignoring the way his ribs twinged. Spock raised his eyebrows.

"Hey, you confessed to Bones last night. Were you-?"

"I have been reverted."

Jim couldn't have suppressed the grin that spread across his face if his life depended on it. Spock, too, seemed pleased.

"That's amazing!"

"Indeed."

"So, how much better do you feel?"

Spock seemed to contemplate this, before responding with, "I feel significantly better."

"I'm glad," Jim said.

Spock nodded but did not reply verbally, staring down at the bed. Jim frowned, confused as to why Spock didn't seem over the moon. He moved a leg to try to get Spock's attention, but to no avail.

"Spock?"

"We discussed my t'hy'la rather often when I was under the influence of the ha'karr's artificial amnesia," Spock said.

"...Yeah, we did."

"I previously told you that I could not claim him due to my actions against him."

"You did, yes."

Spock seemed to be stating facts in an effort to try and brace himself for something. Jim was growing more wary the longer Spock drew out the conclusion to their conversation, partially because Jim had no clue where the conversation was going.

"I have decided," Spock said, "that it would be most illogical to deny both myself and my t'hy'la the happiness that we could inspire in each other, particularly after recent events."

"That's great, Spock," Jim said, smiling.

It was bittersweet, sure, but Jim had never really expected that someone like Spock could ever fall for him. Being friends would have to be enough, and Jim would never even think of denying Spock his happiness, even if Jim wasn't the source.

Spock nodded, still seeming somewhat lost in his own head.

"So," Jim said, trying to coax him back to the real world. "Who's the lucky guy?"

Spock paused as if he were finding some inner strength before looking up and meeting Jim's eyes. There was something devastatingly genuine and terrified in them that caused any jokes on the tip of Jim's tongue to vanish.

"It is you, Jim," Spock said. "You are my t'hy'la."

Jim was shocked speechless, mouth falling partially open. He blinked at Spock for a good ten seconds, and it was obvious that the longer Jim said nothing, the more nervous Spock got.

"...Me?" Jim finally said.

"Affirmative."

"Are you sure?" Jim asked. "I'm-"

"Jim," Spock said, cutting him off. "There is no mistake. Even the ha'karr saw our connection, labeled us a Match."

Jim blinked down at his legs. He had almost forgotten about the ha'karr's declaration, and although it was only days ago it felt like weeks. Identical auras, Matches and t'hy'las. Could they truly be soulmates?

"You are not required to enter a relationship with me and fulfill the bond," Spock said in an oddly tentative tone. "However, we will never find a partner more fitting than each other."

"On the bridge, the day we met," Jim said, looking up at Spock. "When you choked me, was that...?"

"That was the moment that, by the old laws, I forsook my claim on you."

"Did you know, then?"

"I did. It was not my father that convinced me to stop, but the fact that I had seen your mind when my shields slipped in my rage, and realized that you were my t'hy'la. I immediately resigned myself to never being able to achieve more than friendship, yet even that seemed, understandably, out of reach."

"All this time," Jim said wondrously. "And when you had the artificial amnesia... did you realize on that night that you kind of flipped out on me and Nyota had to calm you down?"

Spock ducked his head and replied, "Yes. Discovering that I had such a bond with someone who perplexed me as much as you was most confusing."

"How did you know?" Jim asked.

"Pardon?"

"How did you know that I was your t'hy'la?"

"That night, as I meditated, I journeyed to the area in my mind dedicated to bonds. It was rather blocked off, to prevent emotional distress, but when I entered the area of my mind where my bonds are housed, it was... it was absolutely breathtaking. Without even needing to touch it, I knew that it was my t'hy'la bond. No other bond could be as glorious. I was able to identify that the bond led to you because of the thoughts I picked up on from the bond, and due to the ha'karr's words about us being a Match that you relayed to me."

Jim was moments away from saying _'yes, yes, I'll bond with you, whatever you want,'_ when a thought occurred to him.

"So I'm your t'hy'la," he said, "and you want to... bond with me?"

"That would be preferable, yes."

"Why?"

Spock looked at him as if he didn't understand Jim's question.

"Excuse me?"

"Why?" Jim repeated. "Is it just because of the bond, or-"

"No," Spock said. "I... I am in love with you, Jim. I realized that I was in love with you during your reversion, but I have loved you for some time. I planned on informing you of my feelings after your reversion was complete, following a period to ensure that you had not changed drastically. This plan was postponed when I became weak and in need of the ha'karr's services."

Jim melted back into the pillows, an unstoppable grin growing on his face.

"Yeah?"

"Indeed."

"...Not that I'm not glad," Jim said, "but where did all of your stress about breaking the ancient codes go?"

"I have determined that with so few Vulcans left, the ancient codes and Surak's guidance cannot apply so strictly anymore, especially concerning things as vital to health as mental bonds."

Jim laughed and held out a hand.

"Come here and kiss me," he ordered.

Spock obliged, taking Jim's hand and leaning forward to kiss him in the human manner as well. Spock's lips were warm and dry against his own, and Jim couldn't help but smile like a loon as he kissed back with as much enthusiasm as his ribs would allow.

It hadn't been intense, not bruising or spit-slick, but Jim's head was spinning when they parted. He rested his forehead against Spock's and just smiled, brushing his fingers against Spock's own in a featherlight touch that sent sparks up Jim's arm.

"You are beautiful," Spock murmured. "I do not deserve you."

"Funny," Jim replied, "because I feel the same way."

The sound of approaching footsteps interrupted their moment, and Spock reluctantly took a seat just before Bones entered the room.

"Hey, Bones," Jim said cheerily. "You come to let me out?"

"Not yet," Bones said, scowling. "Around dinnertime, maybe."

Jim pouted.

"That is unfair. Spock, Spock come on and back me up here. I'm fine!"

Spock glanced at Jim, then turned slowly to look Bones directly in the eyes, and said, "Leonard, I appreciate your medical caution."

Jim gasped, and Bones just smirked and looked at Jim triumphantly before tapping his PADD a couple of times and leaving the room.

"Betrayal," Jim hissed. "That is _betrayal,_ Spock!"

"My apologies, t'hy'la," Spock said, not sounding very sorry at all.

"Uh huh."

"I will return at lunch," Spock said, standing. "Until then, Jim."

Spock held out his first two fingers, pressed together. Jim smiled, feeling kind of like his heart was melting, and held out his own hand in the same manner, pressing their fingertips together in a Vulcan kiss.

"Until then," Jim said quietly, and when Spock's eyes met Jim's own they shone with enough love to make Jim blush.

Not even an hour after Spock left, there was a knock at the door. Jim raised his eyebrows but called, "Enter."

A Vulcan man stepped into Jim's room and stood rigidly by the end of Jim's bed. He didn't look familiar, and Jim was a little hesitant to be friendly, but he didn't want to be rude.

"Captain Kirk," the man said. "I am T'Mira's grandfather."

Ah.

"Good morning, sir," Jim said.

"I am not a sir to you, oveh."

Jim resisted the urge to raise his eyebrows at the title, but nodded.

"Very well then. If I may ask, what are you doing here?"

"I have come to thank you."

"Thank me?"

"My daughter, T'Evri, perished with Vulcan-that-was. T'Mira is all that remains of my daughter, one of the very few left of my clan, and you have saved her life."

"Oh," Jim said. "Of course. Far be it from me to let any child become injured."

"If there are any legal services that you may ever require," T'Mira's grandfather said, "I am willing to provide them. I am uncertain as to how to express my gratitude, however this seems to be an acceptable method."

"You're a lawyer?" Jim asked.

"Affirmative."

Jim looked at the door that Joanna had disappeared through and recalled the pure joy that Jim had seen on Bones' face when he had rounded the corner of the clinic, the happiest that his best friend had been in years.

"Have you ever battled a custody case?" Jim asked, still looking at the door.

"I have."

Jim nodded absently, then turned his head to make eye contact with T'Mira's grandfather.

"Would you be willing to fight for a very grumpy but loveable doctor to be able to see his daughter again?"

"I assume that you speak of Joanna McCoy and her father? T'Mira and her father both spoke of them."

"I do."

"It will be done, I assure you."

Jim beamed, wondering how Bones would react when he found out.

"Thank you," Jim said.

The door to Jim's room slid open once more to reveal Bones, a frightening scowl on his face. He stopped for a moment, seeming rather dumbfounded when he saw T'Mira's grandfather.

"Sipek," Bones said, sounding surprised. "What are you doing in Captain Kirk's room?"

"Talking business," Jim answered breezily.

"Indeed," Sipek said.

Bones narrowed his eyes at both of them, then shook his head.

"Do I want to know?"

"Not," Jim said, a wide grin creeping across his face, "quite yet."

"That's a no, then," Bones muttered. "Alright, Sipek, I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

Sipek nodded and left, leaving Bones and Jim alone. Bones approached Jim and began to scan him with a tricorder.

"How do you know who Sipek is?"

"This morning, when Joanna was following me around as I did my rounds-" Jim cooed, which Bones resolutely ignored. "-I ran into Sipek, who was talking to Spock. He started thanking Joanna for getting help, and it turns out he's T'Mira's grandfather."

"Hey," Jim said, tugging on Bones' sleeve. "How are you even in the hospital? I thought you were working in the clinic and M'Benga was the one in the hospital."

"For some reason," Bones said. "After yesterday, T'Mel decided that I was good enough to... promote, I suppose."

"Good for you!"

"Good until I lose my temper again and get booted to hypo maintenance," Bones muttered.

Jim burst out laughing hard enough that his ribs hurt and he even startled Bones some, but the pain was no motivator to stop.

_Somehow,_ he thought, _some way, I think everything's going to turn out just fine._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it, guys! The end of the story! It's amazing, looking back at it all. I thought this would be about half of the length it turned out being, but the story insisted on taking some twists and turns along the way, and in hindsight I wouldn't have t any other way. Thank you for all of your support, with hits and kudos and comments!
> 
> While my writing will slow as I focus more on writing that I could actually publish, I definitely won't abandon this kind of writing. I'm thinking of creating a collection of glimpses into more of this timeline I seem to have developed, as long as stories not connected to the ha'karr-verse. I do hope that at least some of you will come along for the ride!

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! I didn't plan on writing a sequel to my first fic when I started it, but here we are! This idea popped into my head a while ago and just would not disappear, so I figured that I might as well share it with you guys. I hope that you guys enjoy it!


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